


A Case of Falling From Grace

by sailorgreywolf



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angels, Demons, Fallen Angels, M/M, Nazis, alternative universe, asylum AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-26 17:07:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 45,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3858340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailorgreywolf/pseuds/sailorgreywolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A renovation on an old asylum reveals a supernatural affair that happened there decades earlier. They say that God sees everything, but what about the devil? Sometimes, you truly can't escape your past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The building appeared to be an old Gothic manor from the outside, with a series of buildings around it that must have been built in the time when this entire piece of land had been a plantation. The years had taken their toll on it. What had once been a gorgeous old house had fallen into complete disrepair. The wooden front doors hung loosely from their hinges. One side of the porch had rotted to the extent that the entire side sagged. Many of the shuttered windows on the upper floors were cracked.

Alfred leaned against the side of his truck and looked up at his new project. His boss had called him this morning and told him that they had a job for a private contractor. Matthew got out of the other side of the truck and went over to stand next to his brother. He looked at Alfred and said, "A gem of a clean up Arthur got us this time. This place gives me the creeps." Alfred took a handful of sunflower seeds from the bag that was sitting on the hood of his truck. He put one of the salty seeds in his mouth before saying, "Don't be a baby, Mattie. Old asylums give everyone the creeps, something to do with crazy people." When he finished speaking he spit the casing of the sunflower seed out.

Behind them, an old van pulled up. Arthur, their terse boss, opened the door and stepped out. He spoke as soon as he was out of the van, "Don't stand there gawking. We have a lot of work to do and not a lot of time to do it. We have someone paying a lot of money for us to make this place livable again." Matthew made a small whining noise in the back of his throat and said, "Are we really this desperate?" Arthur sighed and walked around so that he was in front of the brothers. He put one hand on Alfred's shoulder and the other on Matthew's. He spoke in a clear measured voice, "I know this isn't where we would like to be working, but the economy is in a slump and we need to work. This is for a very visible client, so if we do a good job here, we will get a lot more work and we can be picky."

Alfred responded, "You worry too much. We'll get work as long as Mattie here doesn't freak out about this one." Arthur nodded and turned back to his work. He walked over to the van and pulled out a bag. From the bag he produced three ventilators and threw one to Alfred and one to Matthew. It was a precaution in case some of the building materials were off gassing. In a house this old, it was hard to say what they might find and how toxic it may be. All three of them pulled the ventilators over their faces. Arthur said, he voice muffled by the ventilator, "Alright, boys, let's go assess the damage."

They walked up the rotting steps in the front of the building, which creaked eerily as they walked up. Matthew's breath was sharp and quick. He was obviously terrified, which was actually quite unusual for him. Alfred also felt a strange heaviness in the air, as they got closer to the front door. He put it down to mustiness and dust. As Arthur pushed open one of the front doors, they were able to see inside the building.

The inside was a complete disaster zone; the stairs on the inside were broken in places. The metal bannisters were twisted and distorted. What was most shocking was a red stain down several of the stairs, which looked a bit too much like blood. Alfred shook off the idea that there was something wrong with this place. It had been an asylum, naturally strange things had happened. He turned around and saw the words over the door, "Abandon hope all ye who enter here." Alfred said under his breath, "What the Hell happened here?"  
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The doctor looked up at the asylum with a sense of apprehension and ran one hand nervously over the front of his shirt. The taxi driver cleared his throat and said, "Twenty dollars. Even doctors don't get free rides here." Gilbert didn't bother to be upset by the obvious ignorance, he had seen far worse. He fished out his wallet and produced a few bills. When he pulled them out, a single coin also fell out and clattered on the floor of the taxi. After handing over the fare, Gilbert leaned over and collected the wayward coin. It glimmered in the light, revealing that the coin was emblazoned with an eagle holding a swastika. The man quickly tucked it back inside his wallet, fearing that someone would see it.

He quickly grabbed his plain black briefcase, a hat and a thick overcoat. He had expected it to be colder here than it actually was, so he was carrying the coat over his arm. A half-covered sign at the front read "Autumn Hill Sanatorium", which was apparently the name of the establishment. Gilbert had been told this would be the perfect place for someone with his skills, so he had taken the job. More importantly, it would keep him out of the public eye until being noticed was safe. He took a deep breath and said to himself, "Alles ist gut. Alles wird gut sein."

His footsteps echoed off the steps as he walked up them. He met no one until he reached the front door, where he almost ran directly into an orderly. The boy looked young, his Mediterranean complexion was alight with a pure joy, "I was told you would be coming today; I hoped I would be the first to welcome you." Gilbert was taken aback by the sudden sweeping enthusiasm; he had not seen anyone with such lust for life in a long time. He had recently become accustomed to people being complacent, almost docile. The boy extended a single tanned hand, "My name is Feliciano. You can call me Feli."

Gilbert cautiously shook the hand, but didn't offer his name in exchange. He had learned to be wary of it recently since his name had such obvious Germanic origins. The Italian boy didn't seem to mind at all. He pulled out an ornate antique looking key and unlocked the front door. He seemed to have a narrative planned out and just kept speaking, "We will have a skeleton key made for you, too. The director says that we have to keep as many doors locked as possible. This place is full of the criminally insane, you have to keep your wits about you."

Inside was a kind of Bedlam, people in faded blue clothing were moving about aimlessly, guided by people dressed in white. But the numbers were low. Gilbert asked, keeping his voice quiet to hide his accent, "Where are the rest of them?" Feli responded, "They are keeping each other busy in the common room. We only keep them in their rooms all day if they misbehave." Gilbert nodded, but didn't add anything. The fewer questions he asked, the less likely it was that anyone would start asking questions about him.

He followed the Italian boy to a huge staircase on the other side of the room. On the upper floor, they reached a door that looked in much better condition than all the rest. Feli turned the knob and the door swung inwards. A smartly dressed man was sitting at the desk signing papers by hand with a fountain pen. He looked up at the two as they entered the room. The man, who looked to be in his very early 30s, had thick locks of light brown hair, which were brushed into something that resembled order. His olive complexion was tanned, as though he spent a healthy amount of time in the sun each day, and only slight grooves were appearing in his skin from age. He stood and gestured to the chair on the other side of the desk, "Please sit. I would like for us to get better acquainted. Feli, please go find your brother. I want him to come see me later." The Italian boy nodded and turned to leave.

Gilbert paid him no more attention to him; instead he walked to the chair and resolutely sat down. He fixed his eyes on the older doctor across the table. The older of the two extended his hand, "My name is Antonio Carriedo. You will be reporting directly to me during your time here. But, I like to know the men that I employ." Gilbert shook the extended hand firmly and, sensing that this time he was required to open himself up, said, "My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt." The name got the reaction that he had learned to expect; the man immediately recoiled, "Please tell me you're German-American."

The albino looked up at the other and finally spoke at full volume, which allowed his accent to be heard, "I'm afraid not. I was born in Berlin." The doctor with the Spanish surname leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath, "Do you know how people would react if they knew I employed a Nazi? I run a respectable establishment. The boy you met on the way in, he and his twin come from one of the most influential Italian-American families in New York." Gilbert snapped back with a response he had prepared, "I'm 24 years old. Do the math; I was 15 years old when the war ended. There is no blood on my hands, I assure you."

The other looked around, as if searching for a solution, which would apparently appear out of the air. When he failed to find one, he said, "You do come highly recommended, so I suppose I can work to keep word out of the papers. We are a small asylum, word will get around. Did you have relatives in the Nazi party?" Gilbert scoffed and said, trying to put as much contempt possible in his voice, "I had a father, didn't I?" Antonio sighed again, this time with apparently more frustration.

He reached into the pocket of his suit and pulled out a pack of cigarettes in an immaculately shiny blue wrapper. He reached across the desk and offered Gilbert a cigarette. The German took one; it would do him some good. Finally, the older man spoke again, "I don't mean to be indelicate; I'm just trying to figure out what kind of situation I am dealing with." Gilbert took out his own lighter, which was plain silver, and lit the cigarette. He took a long pull on it before responding, exhaling smoke with each word, "If it's my Nazi father you're worried about, I can put your mind to rest. He put a gun between his teeth at the end of the war. I guess the idea of a war crimes trial was too much for him. I couldn't stay there, so I left. My little brother doesn't know where I am. He's living with his uncle." The other man now looked uncomfortable, and he struggled to find his next question.

In the silence that stretched on in the perfect sunlit room, Gilbert took another long pull from the cigarette. After seeming to struggle with himself for a while, Antonio said, "Why did you leave your brother? Surely family matters to you." Gilbert sighed and answered, "I didn't want to have to explain what happened to my father. I didn't think I was the right person to tell him. I needed to get away from it all." Antonio nodded and took a cigarette from the pack for himself.

As he lit it, the white phone on the desk started to ring. Gilbert glanced at it questioningly for the moment before Antonio finally picked up the phone. He listened with some interest as the brunette said, "What do you mean you're moving him today. We aren't prepared for it! What do you mean he's already on his way? Fine, I will do what I can." He slammed down the phone and sighed deeply, "Well, Doctor Beilschmidt, it seems that your arrival here today is ordained by some higher power. We are taking custody of a serial killer today, and I will be needing assistance."

Gilbert nodded; glad to finally be free to do something other than talk about his family. The pair of them reached out, almost at the same time and put out their hands and extinguished their cigarettes in an ashtray that was sitting on the desk. Antonio sighed as he stood up, "It will only be a matter of minutes before he gets here. Leave your things here and I will have them moved to your room later." Gilbert stood up. He thrived on having clear orders and directives, and he was glad that his superior was finally giving him orders. He left his coat and briefcase on the chair. He simply nodded to show that he understood the direction and stepped out of the way, folding his arms behind his back as he did so. Antonio took a couple steps around his desk and led the way out of the room.

As the pair of them descended the stairs, the sounds of a struggle began to rise from the road outside. Gilbert felt a sense of calm sweep over him, and it was the kind that only came with duty. He was ready to do whatever was required of him. At the bottom of the stairs, an orderly appeared holding a silver tray with a syringe sitting on it, shining against the metal like a newly polished weapon. Antonio picked it up and suddenly decided to hand it to Gilbert, "I think I can trust you to use a sedative. I want him unconscious and tied down as quickly as possible. He killed ten people with a metal pipe, I don't trust him out of restraints."

The albino nodded and took the syringe from the other and pressed lightly on the plunger to get out the air bubbles at the top of the syringe. Just outside the front door, the sound of a struggle got louder. Quite suddenly, the wooden front doors were thrown open by a pair of police officers dressed in dark uniforms. Between them they were holding a tall man, dressed in a white shirt that was speckled with what appeared to be blood. The prisoner's wrists were bound but he was able to use his very broad shoulders to make it hard for the police officers to hold onto him. The man's head was bent so far forward that his unkempt ash-blonde hair fell over his face and made it impossible to see his features.

The orderly dropped the tray he was holding and ran over to one side to assist the police officer. Gilbert subconsciously made the decision that now was the ideal time to make his move. He took a couple quick steps, completely calm and in control. He walked over to the side of the prisoner that was being restrained by a single police officer. He put the hand on the man's shoulder to steady himself. The touch seemed to trigger something in the prisoner, even though it was a relatively light touch compared to the grips of the police officers and the orderly.

Suddenly, the bound man jerked his head up and turned it towards Gilbert. The sight of violet eyes and a very distinctive jawline suddenly turned Gilbert's blood icy. A sneer curled over the prisoners lips and he said, "It's been a while, hasn't it, Herr Doctor?" The albino felt the blood drain out of his face, making him feel lightheaded. Sheer panic overwhelmed his sense of reason, and he acted quickly. He slammed the needle of the syringe, none too gently into the man's arm. His thumb simultaneously pressed in the plunger, injecting the sedative. Normally he would have carefully checked that he was injected into a vein before making the final movement. But at the moment, he did not care. All he wanted was to since that voice and close those haunting eyes.

He watched at the violet eyes fluttered shut. The man went completely limp as the sedative took effect. Antonio finally spoke, "Put him in a solitary cell and bind him." Gilbert took a step back and took a deep steadying breath. He hadn't noticed how hard he had been breathing until he finally calmed himself. Antonio walked over so that he was standing right next to the albino. He spoke directly to Gilbert, "What did he say to you? I didn't catch it." Gilbert swiftly responded, clenching his hand over the now empty syringe, "Nothing. Just insane gibberish." He suddenly felt incredibly uncomfortable with this conversation and looked for any way out of it.

He said, "Do you mind if I go and check that he is properly restrained?" It was not a request that the other could reasonably deny and Gilbert knew that as he asked. As he expected, Antonio responded, "Go ahead." The albino turned and walked after the police, who had dragged the unconscious prisoner away. He finally reached the cell where orderlies had just finished binding the man to a bed.

The room was now completely empty save the albino and the tall man on the bed. He closed the door behind him when he walked into the room. Something about this man was unnerving and Gilbert needed to address it. He walked over to the head of the bed and put his hand under the unconscious man's chin. It was very possible that the quick glimpse he had gotten, the one that had so shocked him, was inaccurate. He could have imagined that he recognized it. But now, under the bright light of an exposed bulb, Gilbert knew he could not be mistaken. It was hardly possible that this could happen. The face he recognized belonged to a dead man. He had seen that man die. But this face was an exact replica of that one. There was no mistaking it; Gilbert had seen that face on a rainy night in a place called Auschwitz-Birkenau.


	2. Chapter 2

Gilbert decided that it was better not to linger in this room, looking at this man was making his stomach do flips. He walked quickly down the hallway, his mind stuck firmly on the man he had just seen and the impossibility of it all. This little asylum in upstate New York was as far as he possibly could have gotten from a war-torn corner of Poland, how could the past follow him like this? He felt a sudden shiver run through him, even as he walked, making the rhythm of his steps falter. He stopped and, taking a deep breath, finally thought to contemplate where he was going.

He knew he could go to his room, wherever that was. But, considering that he didn't know where that was; he was left with quite the dilemma. This was a big building and getting lost didn't seem wise. He could run into more unintended ghosts, and that was not something he was prepared for. He looked around the vacant hallway and started to swear under his breathe in German.

The lights strung on the wall flickered suddenly and a cold wind seemed to whip down the hallway. It carried on it an icy voice, one smooth but impossibly cold, "Is your conscious starting to hurt?" Gilbert turned and looked in the direction the wind was coming from. The cold air blew his hair back and stung his eyes. There was no one to be seen anyone else in the hall. Quickly, he turned around the other way to look at the other end of the hall. Again, he saw nothing.

"What are you doing?" the derisive voice spoke directly behind him. Gilbert turned again and found himself almost unnervingly close to a boy who looked almost precisely like the one who had greeted him at the door. But, the look on the brunette's face made it clear that this was the other twin. Still slightly shaken, he responded, "Just trying to get my bearings, that's all." The other responded with a scoff, "The look on your face says otherwise. You look like you've seen a ghost or something. I can show you to your room." As the boy turned and beckoned to him to follow, Gilbert whispered under his breathe, "I did." Thankfully, the other didn't hear him. It was not normal to see things and hear voices carried on strangely cold draughts of air, and an insane asylum was not the place to admit to hearing and seeing things that weren't actually there. He followed after the brunette, who had not felt the need to introduce himself.

They wound through a labyrinth of hallways and up a flight of stairs until they reached an ornately carved wooden door, which the brunette unlocked with a skeleton key, "This is your room." Gilbert nodded and walked into the room. The boy followed him, but abruptly left as soon as he put the key down on the table walked out again. The room seemed to absorb light. The walls were paneled in dark wood; the floor was also wood covered with a thick dark Persian rug. The furnishings were also made of the same exceptionally dark wood. The windows were completely covered by heavy red curtains that gave the entire room the feeling of being completely blocked off from the outside world. The light came from a series antique looking lamps that were retrofitted to use electricity. The only thing that was eye catching in the room was a large ornate mirror that was mounted in-between the dresser and the closet. In front of the mirror was a low table, which apparently functioned as a vanity.

Gilbert continued to look around and spotted his own briefcase and overcoat sitting next to the door, so well arranged that they looked like a still life trying to subtly convey the glory of the businessman. He decided to leave it where it was and examine the rest of the space. He soon found a door that connected to an adjoining bedroom, which contained a large bed and another mirror mounted just next to the door, facing the bed directly. Above the bed hung a single simple wooden cross.

This last piece of decoration most offended him; it seemed to presume that he even had a religion, let alone one that required him to have a cross above his head. Catholicism was something that didn't sit particularly well with him. He had seen too many priests suffer just as much as anyone else with no help from their God. He walked over to the head of the bed and reached up to take the cross off the wall. It came off the nail with only a little bit of effort, but it left a dusty cross on the wall. Gilbert took the cross out of the bedroom and over to a chest of drawers. He jerked open one of the drawers and deposited the cross in the drawer. As he put it down the cross, a splinter of the wood embedded itself in his finger.

Gilbert swore again as he felt the pain of the splinter. It was puzzling, the cross had appeared to be smooth varnished wood, but the splinted had broken off almost as if the cross was attacking him. He slammed the drawer shut, hiding the offensive object. The next order of business was to get the piece of wood out of his finger. He brought the injured finger to his mouth and was able to get the end of the splinter firmly between his teeth. He pulled slowly to get the splinter out of his finger. When he got the splinter all the way out, a small drop of blood blossomed from the wound. Gilbert took the piece of wood from between his teeth with his other hand and put the bleeding finger between his lips. When he removed the finger from his mouth, it had stopped bleeding.

Gilbert continued his examination of the room. The contents of his suitcase, which he had had delivered earlier, were already in the closet. There was one other door in the bedroom, which led to a rather claustrophobic bathroom. Having finally looked over the whole of the room, Gilbert felt a sense of relief wash over him and with it a strange sense of lethargy. His day had already been too strenuous. Suddenly laying down and closing his eyes sounded tempting. But, he had to shake it off. Now that he was here, he had things to do. He walked over to briefcase and picked it up. The bed had the most accessible space, so it was to there that he carried the briefcase.

He had been sent a few case files in advance so he could start working as soon as possible. He took three folders and laid them out on the bed. They were, as far as he could tell, fairly normal cases for criminal insanity. They had two murder charges, one with very interesting mutilation and torture, one rape charge, and one charge of arson. Gilbert had been attempting to figure out how to treat each of them effectively. He pulled out his notepad, which had "Electroshock them all!" written and underlined at the top the page.

He uncapped his sleek back ballpoint pen and placed the tip of the pen on the pad. He stared down at one of the files. The words began to swim in front of his eyes. It was strange, considering he had been running on adrenaline not more than an hour ago. But the room was warm and the bed was soft. He rubbed his eyes, trying to get rid of the sleepiness. He looked back down at one of the files. He was reading again when his vision started turning fuzzy again. His eyelids fluttered closed and he was immediately consumed by sleep.  
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Gilbert was standing at a familiar set of train tracks, wearing an all too familiar uniform. It was late fall and the rain was coming down in sheets. Drops of water rolled off the brim of his hat and falling to the ground and mixing with the river flowing down the dirt path. He put out a hand and felt the rain rolling down his hand. This scene was all too familiar, but this is not where he had been on this day. He turned around just in time to hear the shot clear and sharp, the same way he had heard it years ago.

The world seemed to warp around him and the scene changed. He was now standing on the muddy ground outside of the camp. His boots were slowly sinking into the mud, but that was irrelevant. His eyes were drawn to the scene in front of him. The one he already knew he would see, for the second time in his life. The SS officer was standing behind with his hand outstretched and a pistol smoking. In front, the tall body of the Russian commissar fell limply to the ground, a bullet lodged firmly in the back of his head. Gilbert had stood silently on the actual day, but now he ran forward. It was the couple steps, laden with insurrection, which he had never taken. But in this moment, he took them and ran to the body lying on the ground.

He fell to his knees in the mud, staining his immaculate uniform with the black earth. His heart was aching in his chest. He could see Ivan's back, but what he wanted to be able to see again was the face of the man, and those enchanting eyes. He grabbed the man's shoulder and turned the body over. The violet eyes stared unseeing into the sky. Suddenly Gilbert felt a hand on his shoulder, the fingers were digging into his flesh. The strength in the hand was beyond human. The voice came loud and sharp in his ear, "Look at what you did."

Gilbert gasped and tried to turn his head. Another hand grabbed him by the hair and kept him facing the corpse. He spoke all the same, even facing away from the man he wanted to address, "I didn't pull the trigger. I didn't kill you, Ivan." The thickly accented voice behind him spoke, "You said the words, 'that man is no common solider'. Your words condemned me." The rain around him turned suddenly thicker, rolling down in what were now red sheets. Gilbert stared at his hands as they were covered in red liquid. The rain had turned to blood, which was now falling even harder and mixing with the earth. The smell of iron and earth rose in a stifling way. The scent filled Gilbert's nose. He tasted bile in his throat. Gilbert felt decade-old tears released from his eyes, the feeling of guilt washing over him.

The pressure on the back of his head intensified, bowing him closer to the ground. Ivan spoke again, his voice full of incomparable rage, "You know you're guilty. Now admit it." Gilbert shook his head franticly, attempting to find a way to deny it. Ivan shook the hand in the German's hair and said again, his voice actually rose this time, "Admit your guilt!" Gilbert tried to force his head back up, but only managed to increase the pain of the grip on his hair. He wanted to look away from the now bloodstained corpse in front of him, but Ivan's grip would not let him. Struggling to get the words out over the lump in his throat, he finally managed to say, "I admit it. I'm guilty." The voice behind him said simply, "Good."

The weight of the hands on him lifted and Gilbert felt a moment of relief. However, it was quickly replaced by a sense of terror as he started to slowly sink deeper into the mix of mud and blood, which had turned unbearably thick and heavy. It was as if Ivan's hands had been holding him up and now he could do nothing to stop himself from getting pulled under into the mass of bloody quick sand. He sunk steadily deeper into the blackness of the mud, his body only seeming to get heavier and more immobile. He tried to inhale and his mouth was immediately filled with a mix of dirt and blood. He looked up and got one last look at a pair of shining violet eyes before the black earth closed above him.  
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Gilbert jerked awake, kicking a file off the bed as he did. He looked around the room frantically before coming to the conclusion that he had been dreaming. It had all felt so vividly real though; he almost expected to look down and see blood still covering his hands and dirt underneath his nails. With a sigh of relief he finally relaxed. However, sitting on this bed felt like the wrong thing to do. He dreaded the idea that he could fall back asleep and slip into another hellish nightmare. He slowly pushed himself up and clambered off the bed. He wondered how long he had been asleep for and if anyone had missed him. It had been clear that he was not expected to work on cases his first day, so it was likely that no one had missed him.

He ran one hand over his face, which was still slightly wet. His hands were still shaking from the adrenaline of the dream. He took a couple steps closer to the mirror that was facing the bed to look at himself. Gilbert saw his own face reflected on the dark backdrop of the dimly lit room. He looked terrible. His usually neatly combed hair was messy and his clothing looked as though he had been thrashing around in his sleep. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to gather his thoughts. He could not look shaken by the dream, or someone may notice and ask what was unnerving him. The prerequisite to having nightmares of this sort was having experiences on which to base them. Gilbert was quite certain that he didn't want to share his experiences with anyone here, or indeed, anyone at all.

He slowly reopened his eyes and as he did so, noticed that he was not alone. Standing right behind him, with a look of something like patience on his face, was the Russian he had just dreamt about. Gilbert gasped and attempted to turn around, but the Russian suddenly went from being a couple feet behind him to being so close that Gilbert could feel breathe on the back of his neck. He hadn't seen Ivan's hands move, but one was now pinning both his hands above his head against the smooth surface of the mirror. The other hand appeared, holding a knife, at his throat. Gilbert swallowed his objections, with a knife at his throat; it would be no time to speak. The man behind him was undoubtedly Ivan; he recognized the face and the voice from his dream. The question was how could Ivan be here, right now. Gilbert knew he couldn't be mistaken; he had seen the Russian man's corpse. And yet, he could feel the blood, very alive, coursing through the veins in the hands pressed against his own.

Ivan spoke in a low voice in his ear, "My dear doctor, you should be dead or in a cell by now and you know why." Gilbert started trying to resist against the hold, struggling to break himself free. It failed completely as Ivan's hands tightened, vice-like, on his wrists. The pressure was so intense that Gilbert could feel the bones of his wrists being pressed together. Ivan continued to talk, holding the knifes steadily to the German's throat, "The harder you fight, the more it hurts. Now look at yourself." Gilbert immediately felt his chin forced back to facing the mirror, he had been looking away in an attempt to get a good at Ivan. In the mirror he could see himself, trapped like a rabbit with Ivan smiling behind him.

Gilbert tried to say something, but even as he opened his mouth the words got caught in his throat. He felt like he was choking on them. A smirk appeared on Ivan's face, "and no back talk. For once, you're going to listen instead." Now that he was certain he had complete control, the Russian slowly, smoothly moved the blade from the porcelain throat to the front of the button-up shirt. In one swift motion, he cut the tie and all the buttons off. The front of his shirt fell open, exposing Gilbert's pale chest. Ivan spoke again, his lips almost touching the shell of Gilbert's ear, "How did those fools who liberated the camp not know what you were? The evidence is right here" He used the knife to slice all the way up the left sleeve, revealing the arm and a very clear tattoo on the underside of the upper arm that simply said, "AB".

They both knew what that tattoo meant and this is what Ivan addressed, "One tattoo to speak to all the horror you were a part of. Maybe it should be a little clearer." He pressed one finger to the tattoo. Pain seared through Gilbert at once, blinding and sharp. It felt like his skin was burning, all of it at once. There was no way to silence the scream that ripped its way out of his throat. With his eyes nearly closed against the pain, all he could see in the mirror was dark shapes moving over his skin, turning the entire white surface black. The pain intensified as they moved farther over his body. Gilbert could hardly pull in a single breath, it felt as though his lungs had seized. He couldn't move and couldn't look away; he could only scream in agony.

After what felt like an eternity, Ivan took his finger off the tattoo. The pain stopped at once, which allowed Gilbert to open his eyes and finally see what Ivan's touch had done to him. His skin was now covered in tattoos, swastikas, SS bolts, and iron crosses. They covered his chest and his arms, stopping at his collarbone. These would be impossible to conceal, and even harder to explain away. Ivan's knife seemed to have disappeared, and now the hand was free. Ivan ran it slowly over the tattooed chest, which was apparently now very sensitive. Gilbert was able to bite his lip to keep from whining. Ivan's voice was in his ear again, "Do you like them? I think they suit you."

He was able to growl in response, but he still couldn't move. Ivan smirked again, "Oh you are angry. There is so much you would like to do to me right now isn't there? Too bad. I'm going to do what I want to you." He finally released Gilbert's hands and moved both of his hands to the albino's shoulders. With incredible speed, Ivan used his hands to throw him across the room onto the bed. The force of the throw had knocked all the air out of Gilbert's lungs. He attempted to push himself back up, but Ivan appeared on top of him. Gilbert looked up directly into Ivan's violet eyes, which were not angry or vengeful. Instead, the eyes reflected a strange kind of tenderness. He was finally able to speak, "Ivan, why have you decided to come back and torment me?" The Russian smiled, almost sweetly, "Because I want to bring you back where you belong." He leaned forward and kissed Gilbert lightly on the lips.  
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Gilbert jerked awake and heard a pounding on the door. He put his hand to his face. The second part of the dream had felt more staggeringly real than the first. It was almost like he could taste Ivan's lips again. But rationally he knew he had not tasted those Russian lips in more than a decade. He knew it had been a dream, but he had to check. He unbuttoned his shirt and looked down at his chest. The skin was completely blank. He had no tattoos that he could see. He sighed.

He knew why these dreams were coming now: It was because of that serial killer that looked exactly like Ivan. That face had brought up too many unpleasant memories and now they were manifesting themselves as nightmares. The solution to this was simple Gilbert just needed to stay away from that patient, with no stimulus, his overactive imagination would have nothing to feed off of. He got off the bed and decided he should answer the door, which was still being knocked on. First, he checked his reflection in the mirror. He must not have moved in his sleep, because everything he was wearing was in perfect order. That, at least was a relief; he wouldn't have to explain anything.

Then, certain that nothing was out of place, Gilbert walked out of the bedroom and to the door. When he pulled the door open, he saw Antonio standing just on the other side. The other spoke, "I have been knocking on your door for the past 10 minutes, did you not hear me?" Gilbert shook his head slowly in response, "I dozed off, I'm sorry. I thought you had no need for me."

Antonio sighed in response, "I was trying to talk to our new serial killer. He refuses to speak to anyone but you." The albino's heart jumped into his throat. This was exactly what he didn't want to hear. He responded, "Do we have to give him what he wants?" The other nodded, "I'm afraid we do. We need to make a recommendation to the court. I am putting him on your caseload. I'll take one of your other cases myself." He extended a file to Gilbert, "This is his file. Read it over. You'll talk to him this afternoon." Gilbert swallowed his objections and nodded. He knew this was the worst possible situation for him, but he couldn't object without an explanation. He simply took the file obediently and closed the door as Antonio left.


	3. Chapter 3

Alfred wiggled the handle on the door but it wouldn't budge. It was apparently still locked, but Alfred had a set of keys that should work. The door itself was faded and peeling in patches, but apparently the lock was still in perfect condition. He took out the key that Arthur had told him was a skeleton key. It had apparently been one of the last copies made by the previous owner. He slipped it into the lock and the door made a sickening click. He grabbed the handle and the outer coating of gold came off in flakes on his hands. Cold air rushed out of the room as the door swung open and it smelled strongly of mildew and another scent that Alfred could not quite place. It reminded him strangely of a trip he had taken with his father to Yellowstone. He waited for the door to swing all the way open before taking a step forward to look into the room.

Light filled the room coming from a set of windows on the opposite side. It looked as though they had once been covered by a set of red velvet curtains, one of which was hanging limply from the curtain rod, mostly eaten by moths. The other one seemed to be missing entirely. There was a large mirror in this room over a set of drawers, which was covered in a thick layer of dust that appeared in this light to be almost yellow. Alfred felt a mischievous instinct rise in his chest. He was supposed to be cleaning this room out in order to restore it, but that didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun first. He walked over to the mirror and, with one gloved finger drew a smiley face in the dust. He looked at it for a second with juvenile joy. If not for the ventilator, his smile would have been obvious.

Suddenly he felt a force push him backwards. It strangely felt like a pair of hands had been on his shoulder. A quick breathe of air swirled around him, making all the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It seemed to carry a voice on it that said, "Don't touch my things!" As quickly as it had appeared, the wind disappeared and Alfred was left standing there, staring as the mirror, which had suddenly and inexplicably been wiped clean.

In it, Alfred saw a pair of ruby red eyes reflected back at him. He looked behind him to see what it was reflecting, but saw nothing but a small bedroom. The sight of the bedroom at least explained where the other curtain had gone. It was draped across the end of a sagging bed. But, the red curtain still didn't explain the red eyes he had seen in the mirror. Alfred turned back around to face the mirror and saw that one of the drawers had jumped open. He walked forward to look in the drawer. There was a single wooden cross laying there, broken down the middle.

Alfred's breath caught in his throat. This wasn't right, he could just feel it. There shouldn't be strange things hidden here; these had been the quarters of a doctor. It all felt very wrong and he couldn't place why. He turned back to the door, which was slowly swinging closed even though there was no wind. The backside of the door was peeling just as the outside was, but there was also a set of very deep scratches that looked too high to be made by any animal.

It clicked closed and Alfred felt immediately like he was trapped. It was a strange feeling, as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. He ran forward and attempted to open the door, but the handle was immobile. Alfred's heart began to race as he realized he was actually trapped in a room where there was very little oxygen. He could hear the forced breaths being sucked through the ventilator. He began to see spots dancing in front of his eyes.

Arthur's voice came from the other side of the door, "Alfred, get your arse down here and give me a hand with this." The handle of the door gave way and the door swung open. Alfred scrambled out of the room and onto the landing. Arthur was standing in the middle of the bloodstain below, yelling up at him. Alfred steadied himself before descending the stairs, while trying to convince himself that it had all been his imagination.  
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Gilbert opened the door to the room. The man who looked so very much like Ivan was sitting at a table drumming his fingers on the surface. The man, whose name was also Ivan according to the file, looked remarkably comfortable considering he was virtually a prisoner. When the door creaked open, Ivan turned and looked with a smile, "It's very poor manners to put a man to sleep and to not be there when he wakes up."

Gilbert didn't respond, instead he walked over to the other chair and sat down. He put the file down on the table and said, "Ten people murdered in one night, that's impressive. Why did you do it?" Ivan had carefully watched the other sit down before he said, "I could tell you the truth, but if you judge me sane, I go back to the courts and they can put me to death. One execution is enough for any man."

Gilbert's blood froze again for the third time that night. His hand faltered on the pen he had just taken out to make notes. Ivan leaned forward slightly with a smirk, "But, I don't think you will believe my little story anyway. So, the reason I did it was so that I could get locked up here, with you. So I could be sitting here staring into those red eyes of yours." Gilbert felt a sense of revulsion rise in his throat. No one would have known he would be coming here, let alone with close enough timing to be here on the night he arrived. It must be a lie. That was the only explanation.

Gilbert said, keeping his voice low, "Tell me why you feel the need to lie. You couldn't have known I would be here. I'm just something your psyche latched onto." Ivan laughed and leaned back. The laughter made Gilbert's heart start to thunder, it sounded too much like a laugh he remembered hearing after the words, "That little experience wasn't exactly consistent with Nazi ideology, was it?"

At least this man didn't have the same gorgeous accent as his Ivan. The serial killer leaned forward again and said, "Oh very logical, doctor, very logical indeed. I'm insane, isn't that what the Spaniard told you? I'm not lying, you're just not ready to see the truth yet." There was very little real passion in the voice, but there was amusement. And something else was hidden just below the surface of the voice, but Gilbert couldn't place what it is. Ivan continued, "You also shouldn't hush your voice like that to hide your accent. It's a lovely accent, and I would hate to miss it."

Gilbert responded by intentionally muting his accent further and saying, "So you have an accent fetish?" Again, the serial killer laughed, "It is possible. But, you certainly have one, da?" At the end of his sentence, he shifted his voice so that he suddenly had a heavy Russian accent. In outrage, Gilbert stood up before he could control himself. A single sentence slipped in rage between his lips, "Don't pretend you know me!" Because he spoke so quickly and loudly, his voice came out very heavily accented. Which only made the other man smile. He looked at Gilbert as though something was happening according to his plan. He spoke again, "That's more like it, let it out. I know you better than you think, better than you know yourself."

Gilbert realized how unprofessional it was to be this out of control and hurriedly sat back down. Ivan was smiling again manically. The albino tried to straighten his tie, which gave him a sense of calm. He said, in an attempt to regain normality, "You're delusional and with therapy you will see that. You don't know anything about me; you're just making lucky guesses." The other looked as though he had been slapped. For the first time since Gilbert had entered the room, the smile slipped from the man's face.

Gilbert finished a short set of notes and swept them up into the file, which he removed from the table. He stood up and turned to leave the room, quite convinced that there was nothing left to discuss in this session. He was almost at the door when Ivan spoke again, "Would it be a lucky guess to say that you had a one night stand with a Soviet officer in Warsaw the night after the city fell? Would I be too far off the mark to say that it was one of the best nights you've ever had?"

Gilbert had a hard time even comprehending the words. An experience he had never told another living soul about was being relayed back to him and it was perfectly accurate. He slowly turned around to look at the serial killer again. His lips felt like they had become both dry and cold. He didn't even feel them move as he said, "You can't know that." Ivan smirked, which made Gilbert's already chilled blood move sluggishly through his veins, "But I do know it. You better leave before I expose you any more. Your superior is just outside of that door and he wants to talk to you about me."

Gilbert, completely unnerved, turned and left the room without another word. Exactly as Ivan had said, Antonio was standing just outside of the door pacing nervously. When the German emerged, he immediately said, "How'd it go? Is he opening up to you?" Gilbert took a deep breath and said in response, "Well, he's certainly not sane. I think he functions by fixation. He becomes obsessive over people before killing them. That is at least my initial analysis of him. As for his modus operandi beyond that, I can't be sure." Antonio nodded, but still looked unsure.

He started to walk slowly down the hallway and Gilbert fell in step. The Spaniard spoke carefully, "You seem to have insight into him, which could be invaluable in dealing with him. You will have a few more sessions with him before we talk to the courts, and if we keep him here you will deal directly with him." Gilbert stopped walking at once. He couldn't stand the thought of being under the scrutiny of those violet eyes, which seemed to know far too mush about him. Not only did that man look far too much like the Soviet officer that Gilbert had known, he seemed to know about the entirety of the situation. None of it made sense, but it filled him with a strange sense of fear. He couldn't stand one more session, let alone a couple more sessions.

Antonio turned when the other stopped and said, "Is there an issue with that, Dr. Beilschmidt?" Gilbert looked directly at the others eyes and said, "Well, from what I can tell I have become, in a short period of time, his new fixation. To allow me to continue to see him would only intensify his burgeoning affection for me." Antonio rubbed his forehead in an agitated manner and sighed. He looked as though he was trying to come up with a compromise. However, when this seemed to fail he sighed heavily again, "I'm sorry, Gilbert, but I can't get anyone else to talk to him. It has to be you, no matter the consequences. I don't want to intentionally put you in danger, but I need answers about him. Just keep his advances at bay as best as you can for as long as you can. For now, come to dinner with me and the twins, I promise you'll enjoy yourself and forget about your big, psychotic, problem for a little while."

Gilbert nodded and decided to not argue. It would be a nice respite to have dinner with someone civilized. It would also allow him a way to not go back to his room and fall into another terrifying nightmare. This was also time he could use to get to know his colleagues. If he knew them personally, he would also know who to guard himself against. Trust was not easily given when one was hiding such a massive secret. Gilbert already knew that he shouldn't drink tonight, because alcohol might impair his self-control.

He followed Antonio through the hallways until they reached another pair of wooden doors, which the older man pulled open. The room contained several glass fronted cabinets filled with a variety of plates and wine glasses. The middle of the room was filled with an old wooden table, which was in immaculate condition. Around it was a set of matching chairs. Antonio waved his hand around and said, "This room was a dining room when this house was privately owned, after the last owner sold it to us, we decided to keep this room for the enjoyment of the senior staff. Feel free to sit down, the twins will be here soon."

Gilbert spoke, "Well, I will wait for the others to show up." Suddenly the door at the other side of the room opened and both of the twins came through it. There was something about seeing twins together that made Gilbert's stomach turn. Twins had always been some of the first to be pulled away from their family. The doctor he had served under had had a special fascination with twins. Seeing these two brought back a set of memories that Gilbert would rather not revisit. The sudden rush of memories confirmed his decision to not drink tonight.

Antonio walked over to one of the cabinets and pulled out a bottle and was reaching for four glasses. One of the twins walked over to the cabinet and quickly took the bottle from Antonio, muttering as he did so, "You're trying to carry too much at once, idiot." Antonio smiled slightly and responded, "Thank you, Lovi." Gilbert barely heard the exchange, but he did perceive tenderness in it. He glanced over at Feli, who was smiling absent-mindedly at apparently nothing. Antonio walked over to the table and put down four crystal glasses. Lovino followed behind him and put down an amber bottle. Antonio pulled the top off the bottle with one hand and poured equal amounts of a light amber liquid into each glass. Lovino picked up two of the glasses. He carried them over to his brother and extended one to him. Antonio picked up the other two glasses and walked around so that he was standing next to Gilbert.

He handed the albino the glass, but his eyes were fixed on Lovino. Feli had wrapped one arm around his brother in a kind of half-hug. Antonio said, half to himself and half to Gilbert, "Aren't they precious?" The albino turned slightly so he could get a better look at the other's face. Antonio had an almost predatory smirk on his face. Gilbert tried not to judge it, but the twins appeared to be at least 10 years younger than Antonio. There was also something vaguely sickening about the fact that Antonio appeared to be more excited by both twins together than just one alone. The albino shook it off, since his ability to analyze people tended to get out of control. He certainly shouldn't be trying to find fault with his superior.

He took the glass from Antonio and carefully raised the glass to his face. He could smell the alcohol volatilizing and part of his brain registered that it was cognac. He swirled the liquid in the cup, but didn't take a drink of it. This was hard liquor, and it wouldn't take much to make him reckless. Antonio sat at the head of the table and Lovino sat on his right side. The other twin sat next to his brother. Gilbert took the seat directly to the left of Antonio, but did so warily, there was something in the situation that made him feel uncomfortable.

The initial conversation was light and mostly consisted of banter that Gilbert could easily ignore. They were in the middle of the main course when Lovino turned to him and asked, somewhat pointedly, "So, you're German, right? That means you must have had experience with Nazis." Gilbert quickly swallowed the bite of food he was eating and looked up at the brunette, who was looking right at him. Antonio sighed in an exasperated manner and said, "Lovi, you can't just bring things like that up." The boy completely ignored him and kept his eyes trained on Gilbert.

The German finally responded, "I was young, but yes I did." He kept his response short in order to keep himself from saying anything that would give the truth away. He also felt a rising sense of agitation, between the dream, the patient's strange insight, and now this conversation, all that seemed to come up today was his Nazi connections. Lovino leaned forward and said, completely serious, "So, what are the most damned people on Earth like?" Gilbert immediately recoiled, defensive. The boy had no way of knowing what he was really asking. Thankfully Antonio intervened and said, "Lovi! That's completely inappropriate!" He quickly turned to Gilbert, whose mouth had gone strangely dry, "You don't have to answer that."

The albino responded to Antonio, "I didn't intend to. But, I will say this: people are people; only very few are actually monsters. The rest just follow orders and that's all." With that, the table lapsed into prickly silence. However tense the silence may be, Gilbert much preferred it to the conversation. However, whenever he looked up he could still see Lovino glaring at him.


	4. Chapter 4

Antonio walked Gilbert back to his room, talking incessantly as he did so. It had become quite clear through the course of the evening that Antonio was the type of man who liked to talk about himself when he got drunk. This was perfect for Gilbert, because it required him to give up nothing about himself while he gained information about the other person. The Spaniard was in the middle of telling the story of his childhood, "So, when I told my father that I wanted to leave Madrid to go to America, he said to me, 'Join the church, these are Godless times and American souls need saving.' As the eldest son, naturally I had to be obedient."

At this point, they had reached the door to Gilbert's room. The German couldn't stop himself, the fascination with the inconsistency in the story was too great, "But you're a doctor, not a priest." Antonio smiled drunkenly and responded, "Ah, well, how I got here is an interesting story, but I should let you go to sleep. I will tell you it some other time." His green eyes glittered when he looked into Gilbert's eyes again, and he reached out in an uncoordinated way and took a hold of one of the German's hand. He said, "Don't be mad at Lovi about what he said. He's still young and he's not used to holding back his words." Gilbert noticed that Antonio's thumb was moving across the back of his hand in soft strokes. It was a gesture that spoke volumes.

Thinking about the nightmares he had the last time he had fallen asleep, he fleetingly considered inviting Antonio in. It would keep him awake longer at any case. Antonio was older than him, but he was vibrant and attractive. Gilbert looked at the other for a couple seconds, trying to convince himself that he wanted to invite the other to bed. He couldn't do it, so he pulled his hand away and said, "I would like to sleep now. I will see you tomorrow." He pulled his key out of his pocket and unlocked the door behind him, and turned the knob. As Gilbert turned to walk into his room, the Spaniard said, "Gil-" The German turned back around and looked at the other. Antonio seemed to struggle with his words and finally said, "Sleep well" and then he walked away down the hall. Gilbert quickly closed his door.

The room inside looked very much the same as it had, except that there was a bottle and a single glass sitting on one of the tables. The bottle was unlabeled and filled with a clear liquid. Gilbert walked over and uncapped the bottle in an attempt to figure out what was in the bottle. He should probably be wondering about where this came from, but it didn't bother him. The scent coming out of the bottle was light and crisp and familiar. He picked up the bottle and poured the vodka into the glass. He had gained an appreciation for the alcohol when he had been serving, and it also reminded him of the taste of his doomed affair. He took a drink from the glass and walked over to the bed. The alcohol burned the back of his throat, but it was a good pain. He felt extraordinarily unrested by his unintentional midday nap.

However, he dreaded the idea of falling asleep again. He started to undo his tie and the buttons of his shirt. As much as he wanted to avoid sleep, it was impossible. He drained the glass of vodka, hoping that the alcohol would bring him a dreamless sleep. He put down the glass and reluctantly lay down in bed. As soon as his eyes closed, he fell asleep.

Gilbert listened to the fading sounds with a familiar sense of sinking dread. The crisp autumn breeze swirled around him, chilling him. He looked down at his watch and waited for the prescribed number of minutes. He wished that the second hand would slow and stop, just to postpone the inevitable. He knew what was coming next, it was his duty, but that didn't make it any more pleasant. He turned to the assistant who had dropped the pellets into the chamber. The man was staring at the ground below his feet with a look of shock, his mouth slighty open. Gilbert said shortly, "It is time." The other nodded.

Gilbert walked down to the entrance, feeling the sense of dread rising still higher in his throat with every step he took, it tasted of bile. When he unlocked the door, he held his breath as the air seal broke. The air that rushed out of the chamber burned the inside of his nose and smelled of death and decay. He looked over at his assistant, who was covering his nose with a handkerchief. He spoke softly, "Why do we have to do this?" Gilbert adopted the most formal tone he could and said, "It's law: a doctor must confirm death in all executions." The full length of the building was laid out in front of them. He braced himself and started to walk down the center of the building, looking at the piles of bodies on either side. This was not the first time he had done this, but the twisting in his gut was still there. He refused to touch any of the corpses; a simple glance was enough to affirm death.

The eyes in the emaciated faces were rolled back so the entirety of the eyes appeared white, the mouths were hanging open in futile screams. When a part of a corpse got in the way of his path, he nudged it out of the way with the toe of his boot. He turned to the other living person in the room, who was still holding a handkerchief to his nose. Gilbert noted that this must be a fairly new recruit that hadn't yet learned to compartmentalize. He said, "They are all dead, go get the crew to clean out the bodies."

The man turned and practically ran out of the chamber. When he passed through the door, it slammed shut. Gilbert gasped as soon as the door closed. These chambers were meant to be unable to be opened from the inside. The door shouldn't have closed like that; it made no sense. Panic started to surge through him. His heart palpitated in his chest and his breath came out in shallow quick gasps. He knew he was trapped, but he didn't want to believe it. He walked quickly towards the door, but as he took the first step, something caught his ankle and he fell forward. His chin scrapped against the cement floor, causing it to bleed. Confused, he turned to look for what he had tripped on.

A single pale hand was wrapped around his ankle. The hand was attached to one of the corpses, which was now looking at him with blank dead eyes. Its gaping mouth moved and formed a single word, "Guilty." The voice no longer sounded human; it sounded like wind moving through dry leaves. A scream ripped out of Gilbert's throat. In panic, he kicked out with his other foot. His boot hit the corpse in the face. The scanty flesh was surprisingly soft. The bones made a sickening snap as the neck broke to the side. The hand released him and he pulled himself back up to his feet.

As soon as he got to his feet, he started running full tilt towards the door. He tried not to look to either side of him. He could hear the collective groan of the bodies around him starting to move. The sound of bones scrapping along the cement floor sent chills shooting down his spine. He didn't make it very far before both of his feet were pulled out from under him. Only a quick movement of his arms protected his face slamming into the ground again. He turned to look already knowing what he was going to see. Both of his ankles were in the grasps of another set of corpses. Their mouths moved in unison again speaking a single word, "Guilty." Gilbert tried to pull away, but it was impossible; the dead fingers only tightened like a vice.

When he looked around in either direction, the piles of bodies on either side were moving and hundreds of sets of dead eyes looked at him. He was flipped over onto his back by dozens of bony hands. The word "Guilty" rose around him in a litany of hundreds of voices. On either side of him, hands grabbed his wrists and held him down. He looked up at the blue painted ceiling and felt the pain of bones digging into his skin. One of the reanimated corpses climbed on top of him. The weight on his chest was surprisingly little. He looked up into the dead face and couldn't even muster a scream. The bony hand grabbed his chin and forced him to look directly into those milky dead eyes. The corpse opened its mouth and exhaled gas. He tried to hold his breath, but that only kept him safe for a couple moments. When he could no longer hold his breath, he was forced to suck in a breath of toxic air. Gilbert choked and coughed, but he couldn't pull himself away. The hold on all four of his limbs was too strong. As the gas filled his lungs, he feebly jerked under the hold of the dead. His vision faded to black and all of his movement stopped.

Gilbert opened his eyes and felt a profound relief in finding himself back in his bed. In the years since the war ended, he had never had nightmares like this. Guilt had never occurred to him. Now it was flaring up in these strange nightmares. He decided that the best thing to do was to drown himself in alcohol so that he would pass out and rest without dreaming. He pulled off his blankets and walked back over to the bottle, carrying his glass over with him. However, there was another glass sitting next to the bottle already, as though another person was expected. Gilbert walked over to it and contemplated it.

A familiar voice spoke right behind him, "Pour me a glass, Gil. It's been a while since I had a drink." Gilbert looked around slowly and saw Ivan sitting on his bed; splendid in the uniform he wore on the night they spent together. The sight was enough for his to inhale sharply, cursing this for being another dream. It seemed that the cycle of dreams was so dizzying that it was starting to obscure reality. Gilbert put down the glass he was holding next to the bottle and looked back up at Ivan and said, "When I wake up in the morning, this will be back over on that table. This is just a dream and you aren't here."

Ivan started to laugh and said, "Do you really think this is just a dream? Look at your wrists." Gilbert pulled back his sleeve with no expectation of seeing anything. There were red marks around his wrist that looked as though they had been formed by bony hands wrapped around his wrist. These welts shouldn't have existed, but it was not definitive that they did. If this was a dream, then these marks were hallucinations. He looked back at the other and said, attempting to stay firm, "Nice trick. This convinces me of nothing." Again, the Russian laughed, apparently unperturbed, "Then, I will have to convince you."

He raised one hand and snapped his fingers. Gilbert was immediately thrown backwards by an unseen force and he slammed against the wall. He felt a single hand close around his throat. The Russian had materialized just in front of him with one hand around his throat. He looked straight into Ivan's endless violet eyes and saw a manic fire. Ivan spoke, his voice deeper and stronger, "Does this pain feel real to you?" The answer was already clear; Gilbert could feel the fingers closing on his neck and the pain burned through his skin. The pain was more than real, it was inordinate and agonizing. It raced through every nerve in his body. He nodded slowly, but it didn't seem to satisfy Ivan. The grip tightened, "But you don't accept yet. You don't believe this is real." He leaned farther forward and spoke softly in Gilbert's ear, "I need you to believe for me, but I have time." Gilbert's vision started to fade to black. As he lapsed into unconsciousness, he heard Ivan say, "I will see you when you wake in the morning."

Gilbert awoke not on the bed but asleep in the middle of the floor. The wooden floor beneath him was incredibly uncomfortable and he wondered how he had managed to sleep on it all night. He wasn't certain how he got there despite distinctly remembering falling asleep on the bed. He pulled himself back up to his feet, trying to ignore to pain in his back from sleeping on the floor. He felt like he hadn't slept all night. He knew he had from the nightmares, which apparently drained him of energy. As he looked around the room, he noticed that the bottle of vodka and one of the glasses were gone, but one glass remained sitting where Gilbert had placed it in his dream. That couldn't be possible and he knew it. Gilbert pulled back his sleeve with shaking hands to look at his wrist. Red marks curled across his white skin in the shape of thin fingers.


	5. Chapter 5

When Alfred met Arthur at the bottom of the stairs he said, “What do you need?” The other responded, “There is a table in one of the solitary rooms that needs to be moved. Come give me a hand with it.” Alfred nodded, happy that something that made sense was happening. He followed his superior back through a series of hallways ending in a room. The door looked like it had been hit by a battering ram, the hinges were still attached to the frame, but only part of the wooden door remained.

They both walked into the room and Alfred stopped, dumbstruck. On the wall facing them looked like it had been burned, except for a giant symbol that was formed by the unburned wall, which seemed to consist of a series of lines forming a downward facing triangle. Alfred whistled and said, “This is so strange. How does something like this even happen?” Arthur’s retort was quick and sharp, “It doesn’t matter. We aren’t here to investigate anything; we are just here to clean it all up. Now come give me a hand with this table.” Alfred turned and looked at the table, which was a rather unremarkable reinforced table that could be either metal or a very dark wood, years of ware had made it impossible to tell for sure. Alfred grabbed one side and felt the firm slickness of metal beneath his hands. Arthur grabbed the other end and together they started to shift the table towards the door.

As it moved across the floor, it revealed another symbol. This was a star with a sword running straight through the center of it and a circle of what appeared to be runes surrounded the entirety of it. Alfred dropped the table and walked around to look at the symbol, which looked like it had been burned into the floor. Arthur swore when he was left holding the table by himself, “What the Hell are you doing?” Alfred extended his hand to Arthur, “Please tell me you still carry a pen and paper.” The other said sharply, “I do, but what could you possibly want it for.” Alfred kneeled down and ran his hand over one of the lines in the star. The markings were mystifying and he hadn’t seen any of them in any other room. He said, keeping his hand extended, “Fire swept through this room, but left these marks. None of it makes sense. I just want to remember these after we scrub this room.”

The other sighed and pulled out a small notepad and a pen, which he handed over to Alfred. He took the pad and feverishly scribbled down the marks. When he was done, he tucked the note pad into his pocket. Having used up all of his patience, Arthur said, “Are you quite done? We have actual work to do.” The other nodded and stood back up. He walked back over to the table and picked up his end. They carefully urged the table through the hallways. As they did so, Alfred spoke, “Have you noticed anything strange?” The other responded, irritated, “You’ve been being an idiot, that seems pretty normal to me.”

Alfred tried hard not to be stung by the comment, “I don’t mean like that. I mean, things moving when they shouldn’t, drafts of air in places where they shouldn’t be.” He made no mention of the voice he had heard or the eyes he had seen. Those were the least believable of what he had seen and he wasn’t about to start sharing his crazy experiences. The older man shook his head, “I haven’t seen anything of the sort. Have you been using your ventilator the whole time? It sounds like you’ve been breathing in fumes.” They reached the front door and urged the table out of it, being careful not to trip on the dilapidated stairs. They got to the van and put down the table.

Alfred took off his ventilator and put it down on the table, “That is the first time I have taken that off. I’m not high.” Arthur also took off his ventilator and put it down on the table as well. He ran his hand over his face and said, “Look, Alfred, I know you think you saw something, but this is an old dusty asylum, it has a lot of secrets we aren’t supposed to know. I’m not going looking for skeletons in the closet and you shouldn’t either.” Something about the statement struck Alfred as off. He looked directly at his boss and said, “What are you not telling me? If you know something about this place, you should have told Matt and me before we started.”

Arthur looked down and sighed, “I didn’t want to scare you. The last owner was the head of the asylum and he died here. Conventional wisdom says that he was murdered by one of the patients, but there was no conclusive evidence. The asylum was closed after that and all the remaining patients were moved out. It’s been standing vacant ever since. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” That answer didn’t explain what Alfred had been seeing, but it did help. He had heard in some terrible cable horror movie that violent death generated ghosts, and a ghost would certainly explain some of the moving items.

Alfred looked around and saw a pair of boxes sitting next to the van. He pointed to them, “What are those?” He didn’t wait for an answer; instead he walked over and looked down into them. One appeared to be full of files and the other was full of what appeared to be crystal glasses. Arthur responded, “Those are things I’ve taken out of different rooms. It looks like I’m the only one who has been doing any work today.”

Alfred shrugged, perfectly aware of why he had not gotten anything done, “Well, I’m certain Mattie has gotten plenty done.” Arthur looked directly at Alfred and there was something resembling concern in his eyes, “I haven’t seen him for quite a while, have you?” The other immediately started to worry about his brother, considering what he had been seeing. He grabbed his ventilator and turned back to the building. He said as he did so, “I’m going to go find my brother.”  
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Gilbert sat down as the table where breakfast was set up. The twins and Antonio were already sitting around the table. The entire ambiance was hushed, so Gilbert didn’t say anything. He just started cutting into his breakfast. Antonio looked up and him and said quietly, “Do you feel alright, you look like you haven’t slept.” Gilbert looked surreptitiously down at his wrist to make sure that his sleeve was totally covering the marks on his wrist and then looked up at Antonio and said, “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” Antonio didn’t look away, but he didn’t say anything.

Lovino broke the silence, apparently attempting to change the subject; “I was reading an interesting study last night. Apparently the human psyche can’t imagine its own death. It is completely impossible for someone to dream their own death.” Gilbert’s fork and knife stopped moving. He had been dreaming himself dead the last two times he had fallen asleep. He said rather softly, “I don’t believe that.” Lovino looked over at him, “It makes sense though, since death can only be experienced one time.” Gilbert put down his knife and fork; he suddenly felt completely unable to eat. The last thing he needed right now was someone else telling him that his dreams were reality.

He stood up and said, “I have a lot of work to do today. I’m going to go get started.” When he stood up, Antonio did as well. He walked to the door and the Spaniard followed him. Antonio spoke in a soft voice, apparently not to be overheard, “I know you told me not to worry, but I am. If the transition is hard for you, please tell me. I want you to feel comfortable here.”

He reached out for Gilbert’s hand, but the other pulled away. With Ivan floating through his mind so often, he felt almost unfaithful letting Antonio touch him. He said evasively, “I’m still fine. If I really need something, you will be the first person I come to.” That didn’t seem to satisfy Antonio, who quickly said, “If this is about the Nazi comment, I told everyone to lay off the subject.” Gilbert took a small step away from the other, “If you were serious about that, you would stop bringing it up.” He left the room without allowing Antonio another word.  
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The woman across the table was running her hands through her long blonde hair in a way that was clearly manic. Her violet eyes were fixed on him in a way that seemed to carry suspicion. He opened her file and without actually looking at it said, “You’ve murdered six people, on the same day of the year every time. Why did you do that?” The woman glared at him and responded, “I did it because my master needed the souls to retake mortal form.” The response was much more in line with what Gilbert had come to expect from the insane.

He followed the statement with a question so he could establish what kind of delusion he was dealing with, “And who is your master.” She leaned forward as though about to reveal something secret and precious, “Lucifer, of course.” Gilbert vaguely wondered if it was worrying that he found this kind of straightforward crazy comforting. This is what he had prepared for when he had taken this job, not doppelgangers who knew entirely too much about his past. Killing for the devil was blissfully nonsensical.

He responded, hiding all of his disbelief, “And when did Satan start appearing to you, Natalia?” She took one hand out of her hair and slammed it down on the table, “He isn’t Satan; he’s Lucifer. He is a beautiful fallen angel, not some horned beast.” It seemed like a minute detail to Gilbert, but he obliged his patient anyway, “My mistake, when did Lucifer start appearing to you?”

She pulled one knee to her chest, but kept her eyes fixed on Gilbert, “The first time? A decade ago, my father was an important government official in Minsk. When the Nazis rolled through, he disappeared and none of us knew where he was. I was so scared, can you understand that?” She stopped and looked up at him with the round eyes of a child. Gilbert did a quick mental calculation. Natalia appeared to be in her early 20s, which meant that she hadn’t even been a teenager at the time. It seemed that the fear had frozen her in the mental state of a child who was looking for a father figure. He responded, “Yes, I understand fear.”

She continued to talk, “Then he appeared to me, black feathery wings and all. He said that if I was loyal to him, I would survive it all unharmed. He kept his promise, so I kept mine.” He jotted down in his notes, “Delusion manifested from need for protective father figure. Identified as Lucifer, likely the result of a religious upbringing.” He looked up at her and said, “So, has he been with you since then?”

She quickly shook her head and her eyes went wide, “No, of course not. When the war ended, he vanished. When he reappeared to me, he told me to defect to America, told me he would keep me safe. That’s how I got here. When I arrived, he told me he needed sacrifices to be able to take a human form again.” Gilbert waited for a pause and asked, “Why would he want to take human form?” He deemed it prudent to attack all the holes in the story to get the patient to question it herself.

However, she seemed to have an answer to this, “He had unfinished business.” Gilbert pressed on the other issues with the story, “And why would he choose you?” She bristled, “Because I’m not just loyal to him, I love him. No one loves him the way I do!” Gilbert checked his watch; it had been far longer than he thought it had. He had planned another session with Ivan today, which he was not looking forward to. He couldn’t spend much time here, which was fitting considering that it seemed he had hit a dead end.

He closed the file and said, “That will be all for today.” She nodded and pulled her other knee to her chest. The position really made her look like a child, especially with her eyes so wide and innocent. He walked out of the room and started mentally bracing himself for the next session. As he walked between the rooms, he resolved not to lose his temper this time no matter what Ivan said to him. As he reached the door, one of the orderlies said, “You might want to be careful, he has been irritable all morning.” Gilbert shrugged it off, but his heart began to thunder in his chest. He didn’t want to see Ivan in a good mood, but a bad mood was even worse.

He summoned all his courage and took a hold of the door handle. The orderly said, “If you need help, just give the word and you can have 4 people restraining him within a minute.” Gilbert nodded and wondered what horror he was about to walk in on. He entered the room with his hands only shaking slightly. The patient was standing next to the window looking out. Gilbert cleared his throat, but Ivan didn’t turn toward him. Instead, he spoke towards the window, “I had hoped it would be you. I couldn’t stand the sight of that Spaniard right now.”

Gilbert sat down and said, “Why is that?” Ivan finally turned around and said, his eyes full of cold fire, “Because he’s getting very interested for only having known you for a day or two. How dare he try to hold your hand?” He walked over and sat down, “I should kill him for that.” He looked up and apparently caught sight of the stricken look on Gilbert’s face. He immediately said, “I don’t blame you for that though. You’ve been pushing him away, as you should.”

Gilbert’s mind was reeling. A patient that had been confined to a cell for days shouldn’t know anything about what was going on between the staff. The reaction also showed exactly what Gilbert had feared. Ivan had already formed an unhealthy imagined bond with him. He was already imagining that it was his role to be protective over Gilbert. The albino tried to keep his shock under control, so he took out a pack of cigarettes. He wouldn’t usually offer his patients cigarettes, but Ivan was in desperate need of something to calm him down. He extended the pack to Ivan wordlessly, but the other read the gesture correctly. Ivan took a cigarette and said, “You’re going to have to light it for me; they don’t let me have matches. I think they think I’m going to set this room on fire.”

Gilbert pulled a cigarette out of the pack for himself and then pulled a box of matches out of his pocket. He removed one match and struck it on the table. He extended his hand, but he couldn’t reach all the way across the table. He leaned as far forward as he dared and Ivan leaned forward farther than strictly necessary. The flame licked the end of his cigarette, but Gilbert found him looking at the other’s face, especially his eyes. In this light they looked almost supernaturally violet. The fire of the match danced over different variations of blue and violet. It was entrancing, just like it had been that night in Warsaw.

Ivan saw him looking and smirked. He reached across the table and put his hand on Gilbert’s face. The albino knew he should have recoiled, but he couldn’t bring himself to. There was something warm, even comforting about this contact, he found himself wanting to stay right here and not move for a very long time. A searing pain shot through his hand and he immediately reacted. The match had burned all the way down and the flame had burned his fingers. He swore and dropped what was left of the match. It went out on the table.

Gilbert leaned back, away from Ivan and the other slowly did the same. Gilbert quickly lit his own cigarette and tried to figure out why that simple touch made him feel more at peace than he had in at least a decade, if not more. He said, attempting to actually start the session, “So, are you ready to tell me your motive yet?” Ivan responded at once, “I told you the truth the first time. I am here for you.” Gilbert shook his head slightly, “No you’re not. You didn’t kill for me.” Ivan took a pull from the cigarette and breathed out the smoke in one cloud. He looked at the cigarette with amusement and said, “I’ve always liked these. They taste like damnation.”

Then, he looked back up at Gilbert, “How about this: we trade answers. I told you why I killed; now you tell me why you did. Tell me how you justified killing thousands.” Gilbert immediately recoiled. He didn’t want to have to talk about his deeds to anyone, let alone to a serial killer who would take every piece of information as something intimate. He refused to answer and went quiet. Ivan wasn’t perturbed, “You are a very poor sport. I’ll tell you something: You are more like me than you are like any of them.” He gestured at the door, as though referring to the entire world outside.

He continued as he placed his cigarette back between his lips, “And I’ll tell you why: You and I have both tasted the thrill of killing. We have both watched as the light slips out of a human’s eyes.” Gilbert wondered if he was ever going to have control over these sessions. He felt his temper rising again, but he kept himself silent. He knew if he even parted his lips, he would start spewing out his anger.

It still didn’t seem to bother Ivan, “If they knew what I know, you would be sitting where I am.” Gilbert finally summoned the self-control to respond, “Do you think you could gain something by telling?” Ivan started to laugh, “Come now, you know I’m not that much of an idiot. I wouldn’t presume to blackmail you, even if someone would believe me. If I came forward saying you were a Nazi, you would simply say that it was a delusion meant to villianize you based on my traumatic experiences during my formative years. Maybe you would even throw in something about how many relatives I lost at Leningrad.”

He stopped to take another pull from the cigarette before continuing, “No, my dear doctor, I have no intention of telling anyone. I just want you to understand, to believe, that we are the same. Maybe you are even more guilty than I am.” A single word in the sentence sent chills shooting down Gilbert’s spine. He was immediately overcome by a wave of nausea as visions of reanimated corpses and bloody quicksand. All the blood drained out of face and he had to make a conscious effort to not pass out. He simply said, “That word…”

Ivan smiled in a way that looked like it was meant to mock innocence, “Which one?” Gilbert sighed and cradled his head in hand, “Why couldn’t you just say you’re working for the devil?” He was mentally and emotionally too exhausted to deal with this onslaught. He was already sorry for leaving Natalia for this confusing emotional ride. Ivan responded to the rhetorical question, “Ah, so you’ve met Natalia. She’s a sweet girl.”

Gilbert’s attention was immediately caught, “You can’t have met her yet. You haven’t been out of this room.” Ivan took another long pull before answering with a smile, “It depends on what you mean by ‘met’” Gilbert shook his head, he was sick of the word games and the riddles. He stood up and turned toward the door. Ivan spoke one more time, “Oh and Gil-“ Gilbert snapped back before he could calm himself, “What?” He turned to look back at Ivan, who was sitting back in his chair, relaxed. The smoke from the cigarette was floating around his head in a way that almost made it look like a halo. He said with a smile, “Thank you for the little piece of damnation.”


	6. Chapter 6

After another tense and awkward dinner, where Gilbert watched Antonio's hand slowly creep closer and closer to his own, Gilbert decided to do something about his nightmares. He needed to sleep dreamlessly, and that was completely possible with the right chemical help. He wondered how he had not thought of it before. This was an asylum and the patients needed to be kept quiet all night; naturally they were given strong tranquilizers to keep them asleep. No one would notice a few missing pills and they would help Gilbert to actually get a restful night of sleep.

So, after dinner was concluded, he took a detour toward the storage rooms. He had spent time studying the layout of the building, and he was now certain exactly where he needed to go. His footsteps were quick but light. When he reached the door, he slipped his skeleton key into the lock and heard it click open. He quietly opened the door. The room was little more than a glorified closet with rows of glass bottles filled with different pills on shelves stretching up the walls. Neatly written labels were affixed to each bottle and they appeared to be alphabetized.

Gilbert walked over to the section that should contain the beginning of the alphabet. He knew exactly what he was looking for and soon found it. The label on the glass bottle read "Barbiturates" Gilbert took down the bottle and carefully took out a handful of pills. It would be enough for him to sleep easily through the rest of the week. After that, he would have to steal more pills. He didn't dare take more now for fear that they would be noticed. He tucked them in his pocket and turned to leave the room. Once he was out, he turned to lock the door.

At that moment, he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to see Lovino right behind him. The brunette started talking with no prompting, "What are you doing? Looking for something to slip Tony?" Gilbert couldn't quite believe what he was hearing, "Excuse me?" The other rolled his eyes, "I see the way he has been acting around you. You don't even know him and he's hanging on you like you're something special. What did you do to him?" Gilbert responded quickly and angrily, "I haven't done anything. He is making his own choices."

The Italian took a confrontational step forward, "Maybe it's because you're closer to his age." The albino stiffened and took a step forward as well, "No I'm not." Lovino took another bold step, "I think you are. You look older than you claim to be." Gilbert again matched the step and said, "How old do you think I am?" Lovino was so close that their chests were almost touching, "Old enough." He didn't need to say what he thought Gilbert was old enough for; it was clear in his intonation and the look of hate in his eyes.

The albino responded, "You have no proof." Finally, Lovino took a step backwards, but he was no less confrontational, "I will find proof and then I will give it all to Tony. Do yourself a favor and repent while you still can, then leave." The boy turned to make a dramatic entrance, but Gilbert wouldn't allow him to have the last word. He said to Lovino's back, "You won't find anything, there's no evidence to be found." Then he turned without allowing the Italian another word.

Gilbert returned to his room, slammed, and locked the door behind him. He plunged his hand into his pocket and retrieved the handful of pills he had taken. In the dim light of night, they seemed to shine. It was probably his imagination placing so much trust in the power of these chemicals. He needed sleep; the undue attention he was getting from Antonio would only get worse if he appeared to get even more tired.

A sudden knock on the door made him jump and quickly tuck the pills back in his pocket. He didn't know who would be knocking on the door at this time of night, but it seemed only proper to answer. He was certain he was completely awake, so nothing potentially terrifying could be hiding on the other side of the door. He unlocked the door and opened it to see Antonio standing on the other side. It seemed that the Spaniard was the only visitor who ever bothered to knock. Still, him being here at this time of night had worrying implications. Gilbert quickly said, "Good afternoon, Antonio. Do you need something?"

A smirk immediately appeared on Antonio's face, "Well you could give me quite a lot of what I need, but I'm actually here on business. Do you mind if I come in?" Gilbert stepped out of the way so that the other man could enter the room. The Spaniard pulled a pair of chairs out of a corner of the room, where they had apparently been put to be out of the way. Gilbert had never noticed them before, but they had been in the far corner of the room. Antonio set them up facing each other and sat down in one. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes as the albino sat down extended in to Gilbert, who immediately took one. Both of them lit the cigarettes with their own lighters.

The Spaniard finally spoke again, "I need to know if you think Ivan needs to be kept in solitary confinement. The orderlies say he's getting antsy by himself, and I thought some company would do him some good. Of course, as you are his primary doctor, I must get your approval." The request was a hard one. Gilbert wanted to say that he agreed, considering that the only person Ivan was a danger to was one he had developed an obsession with. In that case, only Gilbert was in danger. But, making Ivan free to roam seemed like an incredibly bad idea. However, since he had no reason beyond his own paranoia, he said, "I have no reason to deny it. He is more likely to get up to trouble sitting on his own and obsessing."

Antonio smiled and took another pull from the cigarette, "Good, then that's settled. Unless you have something else you want from me, I can leave." Gilbert thought about telling Antonio to leave, but the company was nice and he had a question that a man formerly of the cloth could answer. He looked directly at Antonio and said, "Actually, I do have something that I need to ask you: What do you know about Lucifer?"

The color drained from Antonio's face and he almost dropped the cigarette, "Why would you ask me about the devil?" Seeing the reaction, Gilbert quickly gave his explanation, "I have a patient who is convinced that she's doing his bidding. I need to defuse the delusion, but I don't know much about the mythology. I figured you as someone who at least thought about joining the church could help me with that." The smile returned to the other's face, "Of course I could do that for you. Actually, I have a book that might be of use to you in my room, if you would like to come back with me."

The first thought that came to Gilbert's mind was Ivan's warning, his ridiculous threat. There was no way that even someone as cunning as Ivan could kill Antonio over an incident he had no way of knowing about. The albino simply nodded in response and Antonio took it as an acceptance. Antonio stood up first and Gilbert followed him. The halls of the asylum seemed oddly calm at night with the excess noise of patients gone. It almost felt like a charming gothic manor house again.

They reached a door that was slightly more ornate than all the others. It was this door that Antonio unlocked, saying as he did so, "I think I have exactly what you need." The smile on his face indicated he was no longer talking about the book. Gilbert had to stop and look around when he entered the room. It was much larger than his own and much better lit. The walls of the part of the room that he was in were covered with ornate wooden shelves covered in books and a series of artifacts. On the far side was a huge window, with decadent draperies spilling from a golden rod across the top. A pair of velvet armchairs and a small table populated the middle of the room. Doors on either side of the room undoubtedly led to other parts of the room.

Antonio sauntered into the room and said, "Welcome to my humble abode. Which would you prefer first: The book or a brandy?" Gilbert wasn't sure if he should feel impressed or uncomfortable. He knew it was courtesy, but being offered alcohol again was not making him comfortable. He responded, "I'll take the book, but I don't drink." He walked over to one of the armchairs and sat down. He heard Antonio moving around behind him and heard the other speak, "You confuse me. You don't drink, but you do smoke. I've heard that Hitler didn't do either." Gilbert immediately stiffened, struck by the commentary about Nazis. When he spoke, he let his accent out for full effect, "What are you implying?"

Antonio put down two glasses full of amber liquid on the table before turning to walk to the other chair. Only when he sat down in the other chair did he start speaking, "I'm saying that if you were rebelling against your upbringing, you would at least take a sip." Gilbert reached over and grabbed the glass. Looking directly at Antonio he took a drink of the brandy. He could taste that it was expensive brandy, almost as good as what had been served with dinner. He put it back down immediately, certain that he wasn't going to drink any more in Antonio's presence.

The Spaniard, apparently satisfied, handed over a thick leather bound book. Gilbert took it and his attention was immediately drawn to the colorful illustration on the cover. It showed a winged angel wielding a sword with his foot firmly planted on the back of a defeated angel. Antonio explained, "That's Michael defeating Lucifer. That's the story you're after." Gilbert ran his finger gently over the face of the defeated angel. He had the strangest feeling that this was wrong somehow. He said, not really thinking, "Why was he cast out?"

Antonio took a drink of brandy and said, "He got too proud, he refused to bow to mankind the way other angels would. When he defied God, he decided he could defeat God and he waged war. He lost and became Satan as he fell." Gilbert nodded, thinking as he did so about the distinction Natalia had made between Satan and Lucifer. The Spaniard continued to talk, becoming more enthusiastic about what he was talking about, "But when he fell, he took some angels with him, they became demons. All of the important ones are in that book Lilith, Samael, Azazel, whoever you're looking for. Before I left the church, I was planning to become an exorcist. Demonology was a fascination of mine."

Gilbert laid the book on the table, deciding that he could read the book later and get more important information now. He asked, "Why did you leave the church if it was obviously your passion?" Antonio sighed as though he had known this question was coming. He looked in to the depths of his glass as he answered, "When the civil war started in Spain, I questioned my faith. I couldn't believe that God would abandon so many people to senseless violence. I left before I could be ordained because I want to go back and fight in my homeland. But, by the time my transportation was arranged, Franco had already cemented his hold. I couldn't go back to being a priest, I had been too shaken. I used the money my father left me to get my degree in medicine and to buy this place." Gilbert realized as Antonio spoke that the other kept looking down, possibly because the memory was too painful. There was also something in the rushed way he spoke that gave the whole story a very strange feeling.

A moment of silence lapsed before Antonio said, "Ah, but that is history. Let me show you something." He stood up again and started to walk away. Gilbert decided that there was no harm in following the other. They walked over to the window, through which moonlight was spilling. The view outside was of rolling fields, the blue-green of a sea in the moonlight, reaching out to touch a wall of black trees. The buildings reflected the light of the moon, which bleached them white. They shone like beacons against the dark green background. Gilbert unconsciously took a step closer to the window, taken in by the view.

Antonio spoke again, "I've always loved the view of the grounds from this window. It's so beautiful." The albino turned and looked at Antonio, who wasn't looking at the view at all, "And why would you want to show it to me?" A predatory smile appeared on Antonio's face and he responded almost once, "Because you are so beautiful." Without any warning, he leaned in and kissed Gilbert lightly on the lips. The albino immediately took a couple steps back. It wasn't that he was repulsed. All he could hear was Ivan threat ringing in his ears. Doing this could very easily put both of them in danger. He shook his head emphatically, and then turned to walk out. He couldn't bear the idea of looking at Antonio, not now. He heard the other attempt to say something, but he didn't hear it. He grabbed the book, the reason he had come, and left the room without turning back.

When he returned to his room, he slammed the door behind himself again. The book, thankfully, gave him something to do tonight until he decided to take the pills and put himself to sleep. He walked over to the bed and noticed a single scrap of paper sitting in the middle of the bed. Gilbert threw down the book on the bed and reached for the piece of paper. It had a single set of words scrolled across the middle, "Where have you been?"


	7. Chapter 7

Alfred's breath was coming in gasps too rapid for his ventilator. He could taste the musty residue of whatever was stuck in the filter with every breath he dragged in. It didn't matter to him though. All that mattered now was getting through as many rooms as possible to find Matthew. He ran up a flight of stairs and down a hall, shouting his brother's name as he did so. As he passed doors he looked at them, but none seemed ajar. At the end of the hall, a door with faded carvings was hanging open. Alfred fixed his eyes right on it and picked up the pace even more. He burst into the room and was stopped dead in his tracks by what he saw.

His twin brother was laying motionless facedown on the floor, one arm thrown out to the side. Only when he took a few steps closer did Alfred realize that Matthew's ventilator was in his outstretched hand not on his face where it should be. The room itself appeared to be the biggest in the asylum. The huge windows looked out over the overgrown grounds, which now resembled a jungle, with ivy growing up the sides of all the buildings. But, Alfred was oblivious to this. He ran over to his brother and immediately kneeled at his side.

He put his hand on Matthew's shoulder and turned him over so that Matthew's head rested on Alfred's lap. His head lolled to the side alarmingly. Before even looking his brother clearly in the face, Alfred ripped off his glove and put two fingers to his brother's neck. He could feel a very slight pulse pounding underneath the skin. He then looked directly at his brother to assess the situation. Matthew's eyes were completely closed. His cheeks were drained of color while his lips were a sickly blue. His mouth was slightly open and Alfred could feel very feeble breaths coming out of it.

Alfred did the first thing he could think of to do. He slapped his brother, saying as he did so, "Matty, wake up!" When it didn't seem to have any effect, he repeated the slap a couple more times, saying, "Wake up. Wake up. Come on! You can't leave me!" He heard a sudden quiet silvery laugh, the kind that would send shivers down anyone's spine, "Why is it that twins are so afraid of being alone?" Alfred looked around for the source of the voice, but saw nothing. He yelled into the air, "What did you do to my brother?" There was no answer and the dust motes floating through the air seemed to mock him. He yelled again into the silence, "I know you're there, you bastard!" He laid his hand on Matthew's face and looked around frantically. His eyes lighted upon Arthur, who was standing dumbstruck in the doorway. As soon as he caught sight of Alfred's manic expression he rushed forward. He kneeled down on the other side of Matthew. His green eyes met Alfred's frantic blue and he said, "My God, Alfred, we need to call an ambulance!"  
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Gilbert's hand was shaking as he put down the note. This showed a shift between dreams and reality. This couldn't be a dream, but the note was in the same handwriting as the note Ivan had left him after the night they had spent together. The implication was clear as well, Ivan knew where he had been and what he had been doing. He quickly looked around but saw no one else in the room.

He spoke, almost under his breath, "Where are you Ivan? I know you're here." The response came in the strangest sensation across the back of his neck, like the soft caress of fingers. At the same time, he felt a touch against his ear, like that of lips. The voice he heard was unmistakably Russian, "Go to sleep." A wave of undeniable drowsiness washed over him and his eyes fluttered closed. He didn't feel the sensation of falling, but found himself lying on the bed. His eyes fluttered closed one more time.

The platform was bathed in smoke as the train rolled in. Gilbert stood on the platform and watched as the boxcars slowed. The officer who was overseeing the unloading walked over to Gilbert and said, "Any special requests?" The albino responded, "We need more twins. The last batch didn't last very long." The officer nodded. The train stopped completely with the eerie scream of metal against metal. Smoke billowed across the platform, but a strong crosswind caught it and the view of the train remained relatively clear.

Soldiers pulled open the doors of the cars and the ragged waves of humanity poured out. They were always the same, and always pathetic. They clutched at whatever belongings they had left, or simply onto each other as if they thought it would help. Their clothing was ragged and stained, some of it barely held together by amateur attempts at repairs. Those who had once been rich were now indistinguishable from the poor. All the finery of their past lives had been stripped away. The eyes were wild in the sunken faces of the starving. There was something inhuman, almost animalistic in those deep desperate eyes. As was true with every train, when the cars were opened, the smell of decay and human excrement floated out. But none of that mattered to Gilbert; it was not his concern. He had been tasked with bringing back new sets of twins and that was all he cared about. It was essential that he focused on his task, lest he become overwhelmed by the simple magnitude of what was being done at the camp.

He caught sight of a pair of children in the crowd that appeared to be identical. He walked up to them, the crowd parting for him. They stood aside out of fear, because he had the SS bolts on his collar. The girls were clinging to their mother and looked up at him, their eyes big and impossibly deep. Gilbert spoke directly to the mother, "Are they twins?" The mother was thin and frail, but she held onto her children like she would rather die than give them up. Gilbert repeated the sentence in Polish, attempting to get a response. This time she understood and her eyes widened. Her response was also in Polish, "Is that good?" He responded quickly, "Yes." It was the truth, to an extent. The mother didn't look like she would be useful for anything, so she would die almost immediately. The children actually had a chance of survival, at least for a little while. They would have privileges for a while, and when they died, they would die together.

A flicker of a smile appeared on her face for a split second, it was almost like relief, "Yes, they are." He nodded and said, "Then they need to come with me." He extended a hand to one of the twins, who reluctantly took it. Gilbert knew he only needed the hand of one of the twins. Twins always had a strange need to cling to each other, like the very idea of being alone terrified them more than anything else. He pulled the girls away from their mother and over to a small group that was being formed on the left side of the platform. It appeared that there were more than enough twins here. Almost all of them were young children, and they clung desperately to each other.

A gust of strong wind swept over the platform and Gilbert could feel it against his back. The smoke from the train blew around him, disappearing over the horizon. Gilbert turned away from the group to look over the platform again. The scene had shifted dramatically. The entire platform was empty and a haze had descended. The air was full of a putrid smell that caused Gilbert to gag. He turned back around, trying to figure out what was going on. The huddle of twins was gone as well, except for the pair he had just brought over. They stood stock still, holding each other's hand. Their appearance had changed alarmingly. Their dark hair was hanging in limp curls, all the shine gone from them. Gray streaks weaved through the hair of both twins. Their flesh was pale and tinted slightly blue. The eyes were completely milky white.

The one on the right opened her mouth and Gilbert's own voice emanated from the depths of her throat although her lips didn't move, "She won't live out the week. It's a pity, she's so young." Her mouth closed with a snap. The other spoke, her neck snapping as she slowly tilted her head, "What would you know about pity?" Gilbert took a couple steps back; the twins remained where they were. However, it felt like their dead gaze was chasing him. The putrid smell in the air intensified. It smelled of death and decay.

The girls started walking toward the albino in slow, synchronized steps. Gilbert looked around for somewhere to go. There was a path off the platform that led through a series of fences; it was the path he had taken many sets of prisoners down. The twin on the left spoke again, "Where are you going? Don't you want to stay with your work?" The fear took over and he ran for the exit. As he got to it, one of the fences moved and blocked his path with the crash of a jail cell door being slammed shut. He turned back to the twins. They were both smiling.

He slowly walked to the other side of the platform, trying to find way out. The twins were standing still with the mist swirling around them. He backed toward the edge of the platform, his boots sinking into the mist as he stepped backwards. Before he noticed where he was, his foot hit the very edge of the platform. He looked over his shoulder to see the empty boxcar behind him. When he looked back, the twins had appeared in front of him. They said in unison, "It's a pity." Something grabbed Gilbert from behind and pulled him into the boxcar. Before he could register what had happened, he hit the floor of the boxcar. The door slammed shut and the entire space was plunged into darkness. In the pitch black, Gilbert felt hands close around his neck.

He jerked awake with a cough, as though his windpipe had really been crushed. The room was in the same order as it had been before, except that it was now completely full of moonlight. He sat up and said to himself, "Those are only getting worse." The laugh that permeated the air was hardly surprising at this point. Ivan materialized at the end of the bed, wearing his Soviet uniform. He spoke, a sparkle clear in his violet eyes, "I'm glad you're starting to get my point."

Without waiting for a response, he made a single gesture and Gilbert was knocked back into a laying position. He tried to sit back up, but Ivan appeared right on top of him. The Russian almost purred, "You won't be getting away from me until I'm through with you tonight." He waved his hand and the sheets immediately moved. They curled themselves tightly around Gilbert's wrists and ankles. He struggled against them, but it was useless. Ivan spoke, "I believe that you would call these improvised four-point restraints. I need them because I don't want to occupy one of my hands with threatening you to keep you in line." He ran his hand down the side of Gilbert's face softly and continued, "Not that I needed to threaten you last time I had you like this." Gilbert heard the sensual tone in Ivan's voice; so different than the anger he had heard in the other encounters like this. He tried to respond, "Ivan, I-"

The other put his finger to the albino's lips and the words immediately were silenced. He said, his voice full of authority, "I have already told you that I don't want to hear you talk back. You're not going to make a sound until I want you to." Gilbert had so much to say to his dead lover now that his dream was finally being affectionate, but the words kept dying in his throat. Ivan waved his hand over the front of the albino's shirt. It flew open, spraying buttons everywhere. The Russian ran his hand now the newly exposed flesh, saying as he did so, "I do enjoy your body, but apparently I'm not the only one." The meaning of this dream suddenly became crystal clear. He wanted to protest, say that Antonio meant nothing to him, but the words continued to stick in his throat.

Ivan moved his lips to Gilbert's neck but didn't make contact yet. He spoke, his breath touching the sensitive skin of the other's neck, "Your taste in men has changed. I never thought a former man of god would be your type. I thought you liked danger-" He kissed the skin of the neck lightly. He continued after his lips left the skin, "control-" He kissed harder farther up the neck, causing Gilbert to groan and arch slightly under him. Ivan continued, ignoring the reaction for now. He finished his list, "authority, like this." He finished by attaching his lips to a spot right under Gilbert's jaw. He worked his tongue slowly over the spot. The waves of pleasure this sent through the albino's body that seemed inordinate. Moans spilt freely from his lips and his body arched up against Ivan's. He wanted to break free of the restraints so that he could wrap his legs around Ivan's waist and really grind against the other. It didn't matter that this was a dream, or that the sex wouldn't be real. He hadn't allowed himself to remember how badly he needed this, or how good it really was. Doing so might have made him want the flesh and blood serial killer who looked so much like his lover. But right in this moment, he remembered the lust, the longing, too well.

Ivan released Gilbert's neck and said, his voice suddenly predatory, "So horny already? I can do better." He grabbed onto both of the albino's nipples and started to tease them. Gilbert was suddenly quite glad this was a dream because his breathy moans would have probably been heard through the whole asylum. Ivan voice came lusty and hot in his ear, "I'm the only one who could satisfy you. That Spaniard could never give you this. They don't teach sensuality to priests." He kissed down the albino's neck again quickly. His hands glided over Gilbert's sides and then down his legs. He spoke again in the albino's ear, "You don't have to worry about me dying again and leaving you alone again. I can make this eternal."

His hand ran over Gilbert's pocket and suddenly stopped. The violet eyes darkened dangerously. Ivan's hand dipped into Gilbert's pocket and pulled out the handful of pills. He leaned back and looked at the pills. After a moment of silence, Ivan looked back at Gilbert and said, "Tranquilizers? These won't get rid of our little nighttime forays or your nightmares. Even so-" He paused for a second and finished in a growl, "You were trying to get rid of me." The restraints on Gilbert's ankles and wrists tighten to the point that they became painful. The Russian closed his fist on the pills. White powder leaked between his closed fingers. He spoke again, "You want me gone so you can let him in. I won't allow it."

Ivan's hands went to Gilbert's wrists. In a single swift motion, he pulled his hands down Gilbert's forearms. The fingers left marks like claws, slicing through the shirt and into the flesh of the white forearms. It sent searing pain through both of Gilbert's arms. He screamed and attempted to fight against the restraints. They tightened even more, cutting into the flesh of his wrists. Gilbert was now breathing through his teeth to stop from screaming. That didn't seem to satisfy Ivan, who said, "You let him put his lips on you." He moved both of his hands to Gilbert's thighs.

The albino shook his head, imploring the other not to do it. He finally felt his voice return and he quickly said, "Antonio means nothing to me. I didn't ask for his affections." Ivan relented and moved his hands back to caressing Gilbert's sides. However, the darkness in the depths of the violet eyes remained, "Don't try to use petty medicine to block me out, it won't help. I am here for you, no one else and I will do anything to have you." He leaned down so that his face was only inches away from the albino's. Ivan opened his mouth, as if about to join their lips in a deep kiss. But, even as Gilbert leaned forward to accept it, Ivan said to himself, "No, you're not ready yet." He moved one of his hands to Gilbert's face. He softly ran his hand down Gilbert's cheek, saying, "Go back to sleep, Gil." Again, Gilbert's eyes closed immediately at the command and he was plunged back into pitch-black sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Alfred was pacing back and forth waiting for the news from the doctor. He had ridden to the hospital with his brother, but he had been kept out of the emergency room. His anxiety had only deepened, as the paramedics had been unable to wake Matthew in the ambulance. Now he just prayed that he would get the news that his brother was awake and well.

As soon as he caught sight of the elderly doctor coming through the white double doors that separated the patient's rooms from the waiting room, he rushed forward. The doctor looked at him and spoke, "Do you want the good news or the bad news first?" Alfred didn't bother to even think about the choice before blurting out, "Bad news!" The doctor nodded sadly and said, "Mr. Jones, your brother is in a coma." The doctor was keeping his voice low in order to protect patient confidentiality. The only person close enough to hear him was Alfred.

However, Alfred immediately said quite loudly, "What's the good news then?" The doctor put his hand on Alfred's shoulder to attempt to calm him. His hazel eyes met Alfred's blue and he said very deliberately, "He's in no immediate danger. We can't find anything physically wrong with him. Do you want to see him now?" Alfred looked down to attempt to gather his thoughts. It was good that Mathew was not in imminent danger of dying, but the condition was baffling. There should be a reason for a coma, it shouldn't happen suddenly like this. He looked up at the doctor and simply nodded.

He followed the doctor through the brightly lit halls, his footsteps echoing off the linoleum and the white walls. They turned a corner and then turned into a room. It was a single room, so they sight of Matthew laid out unmoving in bed was even more striking. He was flanked by a series of machines that were attached to him in multiple places. The sound of the heart rate monitor was constant and loud. Alfred walked over to his brother and looked down at the other's face. It was mostly obscured by a respirator, which fogged up every time Matthew took a breath. His eyes were completely closed, so he at least looked peaceful.

The doctor spoke behind him, "There is nothing we can do for your brother right now. If there is a way to wake him, we will find it." Alfred nodded, but said nothing else. He was focused on his brother. He reached down and took Matthew's limp hands in his own. He only vaguely noticed when the doctor's footsteps left the room and moved out into the hall. The thought that was running constantly through his mind was that there was something in that asylum that had done this to his brother. It certainly wasn't human, and Alfred was beginning to doubt that it was even a ghost. He suddenly remembered the markings he had seen, they may somehow be significant. He leaned closer to his brother and said, "I'm going to find out what did this to you and then I'm going to wake you up, I promise." He released his brother's hand and turned to leave the room.  
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Gilbert felt incredibly tired, so much so that he had to take a couple minutes to convince himself to open his eyes once he was awake. He felt like he had actually spent his night running from ghost twins and being tormented by Ivan. He slowly opened his eyes. The ceiling swum before his eyes and he closed them again. However, he was far too restless to go back to sleep. He opened his eyes again and finally decided to sit up. His head was pounding, but the sharpest pain came from his arms. He looked down at his left arm and slowly rolled up his sleeve. Very real scratches ran up his forearms, bright red and deep. It was unbelievable that these could be real when they had been inflicted in a dream. Surely he was hallucinating.

He touched the marks lightly and they immediately started to sting. There was no way to deny it: These were real. Gilbert was at a loss to explain their existence, unless the Ivan that he was seeing was some kind of ghost, not a dream. That was, of course ridiculous. Gilbert didn't believe in such things, they were the kind of superstitious nonsense that only children and religious fanatics believed. Surely, this was some kind of self-harm combined with sleepwalking. He got out of bed and looked around. The book that Antonio had given him the night before was sitting neatly on a table on the other side of the room, with the note from the night before sitting on top of it.

He got out of bed and staggered over to the bathroom, his attention still on the scratches up his forearm. He went over to the sink and turned on the water. Since didn't know the origin of these scratches for sure, it was important that he make sure they were cleaned out. He rolled up his other sleeve to discover that the other forearm had exactly the same marks as his right arm. He grabbed a washcloth and wet it in the stream of warm water. He then pressed the washcloth to the wounds on his left arm. It made him grit his teeth in pain, but it was necessary. He repeated the procedure on the other arm, the pain felt somewhat duller this time. He would have bandaged it, had he had the right material. But, at the moment he didn't feel like cutting up one of his shirts to make a bandage. So, he simply rolled down his sleeves again to hide the marks. They weren't bleeding, so there would be no way that they would become visible to anyone.

He walked back over to the bed and picked up his watch, which was sitting on the table. It revealed that it was very early in the morning, far too early to get any breakfast. To fill the time, Gilbert walked over to the other table and picked up the book Antonio had given him. Since he had the time and needed the information anyway, he decided to read the book. He sat down on one of the chairs that Antonio had dragged out of the corner last night. It was better to sit here than to sit on the bed. If he was in bed, there was a likelihood that he would fall asleep again and would slip back into a nightmare.

He opened the book to a random page and it turned out to be the beginning of a chapter. The word at the top of the page was the name of a demon: Samael. The picture at the top of the page was of a sword dripping venom. Something about it sent a chill down the albino's spine. He ran his finger over the picture, feeling a sense of familiarity. Gilbert could have started with that chapter, but he needed to start with Lucifer, that was who Natalia was obsessing over. He flipped back to the first chapter of the book, which dealt with the devil.

The picture showed an angel with his wings on fire, falling dramatically from the heavens. Gilbert felt a strange sense of pity rise in his chest; it was almost like sympathy. He shook away the feeling; it was ludicrous and probably was a result of his lack of sleep. He started to skim over the words, looking for a hint that he could use with Natalia. The beginning of the chapter spoke of the story of his fall from grace. It was dull reading and struck Gilbert as elaborate fiction. It was a good story, but there was nothing of fact in it.

He skipped over the rest of the story to the section with the subheading "Interactions with Humanity". It started with stating that the ultimate goal of Lucifer was always to bring souls to Hell with him. That would at least explain Natalia's thought that she needed to kill in order to keep her "master" happy. He continued to read about how Lucifer can also work by possession. This was probably not relevant, but his academic curiosity wouldn't let him stop now. He read quickly, but the words burned themselves into his mind. They seemed so innocuous scrawled across the middle of the page; "Victims of possession can experience visions, hearing voices, nightmares related to a feeling of guilt, mysterious wounds…"

His hands went numb and the book slipped between them. It hit the floor with a dull thud. Gilbert slowly moved his hands to form fists. He didn't believe in these things, it wasn't in his nature to be superstitious. But, these were exactly what he was experiencing with Ivan, almost to the letter. He had to remind himself that he was only reading this book because of Natalia. None of this was real. It didn't relate to him, it simply couldn't. He took a very deep breath to attempt to steady himself before leaning over to pick up the book. It had fallen open to the middle of the book again. He glanced at the page and again saw the sword dripping venom. It had turned back to the first page he had turned to. He couldn't bring himself to continue to read anything more, so he decided to close the book.

He instead decided to walk over to his briefcase and retrieve Ivan's file. There was a form tucked into the back that was required by the court. Gilbert removed a pen from his briefcase. When he returned to the chair, he started to fill out the form. There was no doubt in his mind that the best course of action was to judge Ivan insane. He had too many unanswered questions about the patient, and sending him off to be executed was not something Gilbert could allow himself to do. As much as he didn't want to rationally admit it, there was also a certain guilt attached to the idea of being the cause of Ivan's execution again. In the middle of his scribbling, he heard a hesitant knock on the door.

He looked up at the sound and without any hesitation decided to answer it. He stood up and walked to the door and smoothly opened it. As he expected, Antonio was standing on the other side looking sheepish. Gilbert immediately said, "Good morning, Antonio. You're awake early." The Spaniard nodded and carefully responded, "As are you. I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about what happened last night and I've decided that I need to talk to you about it." The way he spoke was quick and almost frenetic, like he had scripted this beforehand and wanted to get all the words out properly. Gilbert decided that there was no harm in letting the other in, so he said, "You should come in then." He then stepped out of the way and Antonio walked into the room. The Spaniard immediately sat down and started talking, "I'm sorry if I unnerved you last night, that wasn't what I meant to do."

Gilbert sat down across from him and said, "You just caught me off guard, don't worry about it." It was an option to push Antonio away, but there was something holding him back. It wasn't attraction; he definitely didn't feel that. He couldn't just close the door on the possibility. The other responded, "Why do you keep telling me not to worry about things that I can't help but worry about?" Gilbert laughed slightly, but it was only to diffuse the situation, "I'm not mad at you, Antonio. Does that help?"

The Spaniard shrugged and attempted to change the subject, "Have you started reading the book I gave you yet?" The albino glanced over at the book, which was sitting where he left it on the bed. It would sound ridiculous to say that the book had actually managed to unnerve him. So, instead he posed it as a simple question, making sure there was no emotion in it, "I have and I have a question. Hypothetically, how common is possession?" Antonio finally smiled, glad to have a subject he didn't feel uncomfortable on, "Well, as a Catholic, I don't believe any of this is hypothetical. But to answer the question, true possession is rare. Usually you see cases of oppression, where the demon is hurting their target in order to break them down so they can get in."

Another chill shot through Gilbert and he decided to discontinue this train of thought. He refused to believe in demons even on a theoretical level, let alone affecting his own life. This was all fanaticism and he refused to buy into it. He spoke, trying not to be completely derisive, "You know I can't believe any of this. I just need the information" The other nodded and said, "Well, it's time for breakfast anyway."  
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After Gilbert managed to duck out of breakfast early, he intended to go back to his room and finish his paperwork, but he decided to take a detour by the common room. He had given the permission for Ivan to wander around, the least he could do was check on his patient. The doors to the common room were wide open and Gilbert could see inside. The room would be considered spacious, but it was full of chairs and tables. The tables were mostly occupied by card games or nonsensical chess. Patients were occupying almost all of the chairs. But even through the commotion, he could see one person clearly through the crowd.

Ivan was sitting in a faded armchair like it was a throne. Natalia was sitting on the floor next to him with her head on his lap. He was softly stroking her hair. Gilbert felt a pang in his chest. As he watched, Ivan looked up and his violet eyes caught the albino. He smiled knowingly and said something Gilbert couldn't quite lip-read to Natalia. She looked up at him, but didn't argue. She stood up and walked away from him. Ivan looked back at Gilbert and made a beckoning gesture. The albino weaved through the crowded room and quickly reached Ivan. When he was standing in front of the other, he said, "I see you have made friends."

The patient raised his eyebrow and said, "Are you jealous, doctor? There's plenty of room on my lap if you would like." Gilbert bristled because the words struck too close to home. After his erotic dream, he couldn't deny that the thought had crossed his mind. He responded with the best thing he could muster, "I was surprised that Natalia could get along with anyone considering her personality disorders." Ivan smirked and motioned to the chair next to him, "You should sit down if you aren't going to take up my offer."

Gilbert took the advice and sat down in the wooden chair next to the armchair and looked over at the other, with his deep impassive violet eyes fixed on the albino. Gilbert had to shake himself to say something; "I want you to know that I have declared you legally insane. You're stuck with me for the rest of your life." Ivan responded with a smile and an almost predatory look in his eyes, "That may be a far longer than you think." Gilbert sighed; frustrated that he had thought this might make his relationship with Ivan better. It was more mind games and vagaries. But, Ivan continued, "I am glad that you saved me from execution this time."

He reached out suddenly and wrapped his hand around Gilbert's wrist. The touch sent pleasant warmth through the albino's body, starting at his forearms and coursing through him. He exhaled softly as the feeling spread. He looked into Ivan's eyes and found himself falling in again. Ivan's other hand went to the albino's cheek and the feeling immediately spread. Ivan spoke in a soft voice, "When you do something good for me, I can make you feel good."

Gilbert couldn't pull himself away from those endless melting violet eyes. He felt all the stresses and worries of the past few days disappear, even the revelation from the book he had read that morning. After what felt like a blissfully long stretch of time, Gilbert said, "Ivan…" The other responded with the same smile that had been on his face the whole time, "What is it, my dear doctor?" In the strange state of hypnosis, Gilbert had to struggle to say, "I have to go finish your paperwork." The other laughed and said, "But that's not what you want. You want to answer the burning question of if I'm still as good as I was last time."

Gilbert pulled away, struck by the words. He said, stunned, "Don't speak like you know. You weren't there, it's not possible. It wouldn't be ethical anyway." Ivan released the albino with both hands. The smug look had been replaced by one of slight anger. The tone of his voice had also shifted, there was an edge to it now, "You've never cared for ethics before, don't start on my behalf." When the skin-to-skin contact disappeared, Gilbert realized how absurd the situation was. He was a doctor, and should have been in a position of authority. But, he had been taken in by a serial killer, for no reason other than him looking like a former lover. Gilbert stood up and without a response, walked away.

On his way back to his room, Gilbert noticed that the pounding pain in his forearms had faded. He stopped in the middle of the hallway and, on a whim, rolled up his left sleeve again. The skin was completely clean and unmarked. It didn't look like they had healed; it looked like they had never existed. He checked the other forearm and discovered the same. He tried to fathom it, but there was no reason for the marks to appear and disappear like this.

When he got back to his room, the first thing he noticed was that the book of demons was lying open on his bed. When he had left, he was certain it had been closed and out of the way. He look at the page it was open to and was entirely unsurprised to see that it was open to the start of the chapter on Samael. Gilbert closed the book and then, out of curiosity, picked up the book and dropped it on the bed again. It opened to exactly the same page. There was something reassuring about it. The consistency meant that there was probably a seam in the binding that was causing it to open to this page. There wasn't any meaning in it. But, he found himself curious all the same. He sat down on the edge of the bed and started immersing himself in the story about the prince of demons.


	9. Chapter 9

Alfred looked at the directions and then back up at the street signs. He had asked the receptionist at the hotel the way to the nearest library and she had taken pity on him and given him in depth written instructions. He glanced back at the street signs and turned right at the corner. He continued to walk, looking up at the numbers as he passed. In a small town like this, all the buildings looked the same. However, when he reached a large white building, he recognized that this was what he was looking for.

He walked into the library and up to the desk at the front. A teenage girl with a blonde bun was sitting at the reception desk reading a thick book with a title that didn't appear to be in English. She looked up at him and said with a charming smile, "Hello, how can I help you?" Alfred fumbled in his pocket and pulled out the drawings from the asylum. He put them down on the desk and said, "I'm looking for a book that will tell me what these mean." She looked down at the symbols and then up at him again and said, "I'm sorry, these don't mean anything to me."

Another teenager came out of the sorting room behind the reception desk and walked around to the front, saying as he did so, "I'm going to go get lunch, do you want anything?" He stopped dead in his tracks when he caught sight of Alfred's sketches. He said, "Woah, that's some satanic shit." The words struck a chord because Alfred had already suspected something supernatural. It was to the boy that he directed his next question, "Do you know something about these?" The teenager's expression revealed that he felt like he had gotten himself into something he didn't particularly want to, but he answered all the same, "Well, I had this friend who was really into Satanism. He used to be obsessed with these sorts of things. He went to the old haunted asylum every weekend, and it made him…I don't know…different, I guess."

Alfred immediately said, "What do you mean it's haunted?" The girl cut in at this point, "That's just a story, it isn't actually haunted." The other teenager quickly said, "I've been up there at night. It's scary. Things move; you hear things. I heard that three doctors and a whole bunch of orderlies died there when it was an asylum." The blonde girl rolled her eyes, apparently exasperated with both of them. She looked back down at her book and blocked the pair of boys out. Alfred didn't care; all he was interested in was learning what the symbols meant. He spoke, "Where could I find a book with these symbols in it?" The boy responded, "The back corner of the non-fiction section." Alfred quickly thanked the teenager before heading off to find a book.  
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Words were still spinning in Gilbert's head as he stared at the serving of beef on his plate. He had spent the entire day reading about demons and fallen angels. He wasn't listing to the conversation around the table, he was thinking about Lilith's grudge against humanity, of the exploits of the incubi, and the temptation of Azazel. As someone who had always put faith in science, it felt strange to be so drawn to the stories of religion. He was eating with a kind of mindlessness as he attempted to sort all the information.

But, his attention was finally brought back to the present by Antonio's voice, "Gilbert, what is your trick with Ivan?" The albino was caught off guard, so he said rather shortly, "I don't have a trick." The Spaniard spoke in a casual voice as he says, "Surely you must. The orderlies tell me that he is impossible to handle most of the time, but after he has sessions with you he is calm. There must be something you do." Gilbert was mystified as to the reason for Ivan's change of mood. The only explanation he could think of was that Ivan was transferring the feeling to him, because Gilbert always came out of the sessions more agitated than he went into them. Lovino intoned with a measure of cynicism, "Maybe he recognizes a kindred spirit." The Spaniard glared at him, but Lovino seemed completely unaffected. Gilbert wondered what that could possibly be about.

Antonio continued to speak and there was almost a purr of affection in his voice, "You seem to have a way of taming him." Gilbert was about to speak when there was an outburst on the other side of the table. Lovino spoke loudly, standing up as he did so, "You just want him to tame you!" The spike of tension in the room left Gilbert speechless. Antonio didn't stand up, instead he just said, "Lovi, you need to calm down." This seemed to be precisely the wrong thing to say. Lovino's eyes started to glisten with angry tears. He yelled, losing all self-control, "Do you think I'm a fool? I will not sit here and watch you make love to someone else! I don't know what I ever saw in you!" With that, he turned and stormed out of the room. His twin stood up and rushed after him, leaving Gilbert and Antonio sitting alone at the table.

The albino turned to the other and said, still surprised by the turn of events, "Are you going to go after him?" Antonio sighed and pushed away his plate. It looked like he hadn't eaten anything. He finally answered the question, "There's no point. He's upset and there is nothing I can do. When he calms down, I will talk to him." The answer seemed to show an indifference that bordered on callousness. Gilbert found himself feeling increasingly less comfortable with the situation. He hadn't intended to disrupt a relationship like this. He stood up, saying as he did so, "This isn't right, Antonio." He was stopped by the Spaniard reaching out and grabbing his wrist, "Don't go, Gilbert. I don't want to be alone tonight." His eyes were full of a shining affection that seemed completely unwarranted.

However, something in the back of Gilbert's mind whispered to him that he could take this eager man and break him. It was an unbidden thought, but one he couldn't push away all the same. He could use Antonio to get pleasure for one night, and then he could deal with the emotional aftermath later. It was a strange feeling, but not entirely unpleasant. There was even something powerful in the thought. Antonio slowly stood up because the albino had stopped attempting to pull away. As soon as he was standing, Gilbert immediately leaned forward and kissed Antonio fully on the lips. The other reacted instantly and reciprocated the kiss.

The Spaniard's hands immediately went to the buttons of Gilbert's shirt. Within minutes, he had the buttons undone and was pulling the fabric down, so that the albino's white shoulders were revealed. Antonio started to work the fabric farther down off of Gilbert's upper arms. Their lips broke apart for a second and Antonio glanced down. He looked back at Gilbert with a teasing smile and said, "What is this from?" He trailed a single finger over the blood type tattoo on Gilbert's arm. Gilbert immediately snapped to his senses. He couldn't let anyone see that, not with what it meant about him. He immediately recoiled; taking a couple steps back and pulling his shirt back up onto his shoulders at the same time. He spoke, trying to not make it obvious why he was so flustered, "I'm just not attracted to you. Don't follow me when I leave."

He turned and left, hoping that Antonio took his hint and stayed behind. But, dread started to grow as he got closer to his room. It was comforting to be free of the danger of being revealed to Antonio, but he knew he was walking into another nightmare. The choices seemed to be either giving up his secret or falling into pure terror. He stopped with his hand on the door handle. He needed something other than a night alone, those had been painful, both physically and mentally. The smart thing to do, psychologically, would be to seek out someone to talk to. But, that was impossible because he was hiding his past from everyone. Then it occurred to him: there was one person who knew about his past.

He shook his head to try and dispel the thought. Going to Ivan was, of course, out of the question, but the thought of the peace the man's touch had brought him was too tempting. Only one more minute of that calm would be enough to dispel all of this. He slowly released the door handle, the decision already made. He didn't bother to knock on Ivan's door when he reached it; he simply inserted his skeleton key and opened the door.

Ivan was sitting on a chair next to the barred window, the light of the moon spilling over him. No other light was lit in the entire room. The silver light gave everything an almost otherworldly glow. Even the simple furnishings of a patient's cell appeared to be grand and giant in this light. Gilbert felt like he was intruding on a secret kingdom; even Ivan seemed to have a glowing crown-like halo. The man turned his face away from the window and toward Gilbert. A smile broke across his face, "Isn't it a little late for a visit, my dear?"

Gilbert tried to form an eloquent response, but only managed, "I need to talk to you." He turned to close the door behind him and found it already closed. When he turned back towards Ivan, the other had already apparently taken several very quick steps because he was now right in front of Gilbert. The albino attempted to make space between them, but Ivan's hand on his face stopped him. As before, the touch sent a warm glow through him, which seemed to freeze all his muscles. Ivan spoke, a smug smile on his face, "I already know why you're here." He slid his hand slowly under Gilbert's jaw, saying as he did so, "You're here because you've realized that I'm right. None of them will ever be able to understand you the way I can. Around them, you have to hide, but not with me."

Gilbert was actually able to respond, unlike in his dreams, "I'm walking on pins and needles around everyone." He was trying not to look into Ivan's eyes, lest he fall into them again. But, the other used his hand to tip Gilbert's head up so their eyes met; only then did he speak again, "Everyone but me, right?" The albino felt the single word slip out, "Yes." Ivan smirk widened and he leaned forward, putting one hand on Gilbert's waist. The albino was far too comfortable to try to resist or protest. If he was honest with himself, he had wanted this since he had realized that his Soviet lover had a doppelganger.

He felt himself being pulled against Ivan's body and, without thinking, put both of his hands on the other's broad shoulders. Ivan brought his face even closer to Gilbert's and said, softly, "Are you yielding to me?" Gilbert's eyes were half-lidded, but he was able to look up enough to say, "Yes. I don't want Antonio. I want you." The other leaned forward and nipped the albino's ear, "Well, if that's what the doctor orders, I will comply." He started to kiss down the white neck with feather-light touches that slowly intensified as he moved down. Gilbert felt as though he had slipped into a trance. His self-control was slipping away quickly, but it didn't matter. His body had gone from pleasantly warm, to burning hot. He felt like there was fire racing through his veins. His mouth was open as tiny whines and moans spilled freely from it. He stretched his neck to make it more available to Ivan's skillful caresses. Gilbert's eyes fluttered closed and his vision went black. In that blackness, all he felt was overwhelming pleasure.

When he opened his eyes again, he felt something beneath his back. He realized that he had been moved to the bed and he was now spread-eagled on it. His clothing was also completely gone, although he had no memory of having taken it off. But nothing mattered but Ivan, who was right on top of him. The other whispered in Gilbert's ear, "I will punish Antonio for trying to lay hands on you. But-" He ran both his hands down the very inside of the albino's thighs. The area felt hypersensitive and the touch sent jolts of pure pleasure through the albino's body. His back arched off the bed. The groan was loud enough that Gilbert for a very fleeting moment wondered how thick the door of this room was. But that was immediately swept away by Ivan's soft voice in his ear, continuing to talk, "-you don't need to be punished. You came to me, gave yourself to me."

His voice slipped into a possessive whisper, "I have you now, just like I wanted." Gilbert wanted to respond, but all he could manage was breathy moans. This was only intensified when Ivan moved his mouth to Gilbert's chest and started to carefully tease one of the nipples with his tongue. The albino's body arched what seemed to be impossibly far off the bed. The moans were impossible to stifle; every move Ivan made seemed to unleash them again. Ivan leaned back to put both his hands on Gilbert's hips.

The albino looked up at Ivan in his daze. The silvery moonlight made Ivan look impossibly pale, even shining. The muscles of the other's exposed chest arms looked like they belonged to a piece of art, not something as flawed as a human. But, there was something strange. Gilbert could have sworn he saw black shapes right behind the other's back. He opened his eyes all the way and the shapes solidified into handsome black feathery wings. Had he slipped into a dream when he had blacked out? These things did not belong to the rational world.

Ivan noticed that Gilbert was looking and without any hesitation, slammed himself into the albino. Without any proper preparation, this should have hurt, but instead it felt amazingly good. It was like Ivan had managed to hit his prostate on the first attempt. He screamed in ecstasy, his throat now sore from being so vocal. Ivan leaned over him, now so close that their foreheads were touching. Gilbert could no longer see anything but the fire in the other's impossibly deep eyes. The albino's hands dug into the flesh of the other's back and he felt his hand brush against something feathery.

Ivan started to thrust into the man beneath him slowly at first. Each of the thrusts was perfectly on target and made Gilbert arch and moan shamelessly. Each reaction in turn made Ivan speed up. The pounding reached a fever pitch within minutes. It didn't take long before Gilbert felt a familiar tightening in his stomach. He wrapped one hand tightly around the back of Ivan's head and said hoarsely, "Kiss me." He wanted to feel Ivan's lips against his own; their tongues tangled together. He needed to be thoroughly owned and the treatment so far felt incomplete.

The other's eyes filled with uncertainty and he responded, "No, not yet." Gilbert didn't have time to even consider the response because he was pushed over the edge by one more well placed thrust. He came with one more hoarse scream. As soon as the height of the orgasm died, his vision again faded to black and he faded into unconsciousness.

Gilbert woke up feeling, for the first time in days, very rested. He sleepily opened his eyes to find that he wasn't in his own room. The experience of the nigh before had apparently been, in some parts, real because Gilbert was lying in a patient's bed in a room that he was certain was Ivan's. He looked around for the man he had spent the night with, only to find that he was alone. It was impossible that Ivan could have snuck out without him noticing, but it was the only logical explanation for why the man wasn't here.

Gilbert slowly sat up. His mind was still reeling from the night before. It was luridly unprofessional for him to lose his self-control like this. Sleeping with his own patient was completely unacceptable behavior, and yet he could not bring himself to regret it. The sensation was better than almost anything he had ever felt, with the exception of the night he had spent with the Soviet officer. As he looked around, he noticed a pile of clothing, immaculately folded at the end of the bed. Slowly, Gilbert pulled himself out of bed and walked over to the clothing. He got dressed slowly while he wondered what time it was. It was very possible he had missed breakfast, considering that he had slept soundly for the first time in days.

Only when he was completely dressed, did he notice something else. There was a note sitting on the pillow Gilbert had not been occupying. He walked over to it and opened it curiously. The handwriting was the same as the note that had been left on Gilbert's bed a couple nights ago. It said, "I said there was to be punishment. Dues will now be paid." He had no doubts that the note was referring to Antonio. Gilbert's heart sank as he realized what the words really meant. He could not say whom he felt more scared for. Antonio was his employer and innocent. But, Ivan was now his lover and Gilbert felt the need to protect him. Either way, he needed to stop this act of revenge.

He turned and ran out of the room, only thinking enough to grab his key on the way out. He turned blindly and ran out onto the open space at the top of the main flight of stairs. Below, standing in the middle of the floor were Lovino and Antonio. They seemed to be having a fairly heated discussion about what had happened the night before. Gilbert stopped for a moment and sighed. He had apparently gotten worked up about nothing. Antonio was right there and perfectly fine. He started to laugh slightly at his own paranoia and stupidity.

But, as he looked down again, he noticed someone standing against the far wall, her blonde hair carefully tied with a blue ribbon. Gilbert saw a flash of silver as Natalia pulled a kitchen knife from her sleeve, where she must have been hiding it. Suddenly, it was all revealed in agonizing clarity. From this height, even if Gilbert yelled there was no guarantee that either of them would hear him over their own conversation. So, he sprinted to the stairs and tried to run down them in time to make a difference. But, he saw the whole thing unfold with a sick feeling of helplessness in his gut.

Natalia lunged with the knife towards Antonio's back, intent on hitting something vital enough to kill him. Lovino saw the glint of the knife over Antonio's shoulder. He grabbed Antonio by both shoulders and threw him to the ground, out of the path of the knife. The blade embedded itself up to the hilt in Lovino's chest. From the distance he was at, Gilbert couldn't be sure, but he was fairly certain the blade had struck the man in the heart.

The brunette fell to the floor, completely limp. Dark red blood pooled around the body, pouring out at an alarming rate. It stained the wooden floor beneath it. Antonio didn't seem to see the blood as he took the body in his arms. Lovino reached up, as if about to touch the Spaniard's face, but he was too weak and was unable to reach all the way. The arm fell to his side and all of the tension went out of his muscles. It didn't take thorough examination to see that the boy was dead. A strangled sob came from Antonio as he made this realization. The Spaniard's heartbroken sobs and Natalia struggling against the orderlies that had restrained her were the only sounds that echoed off the walls of the asylum.


	10. Chapter 10

The atmosphere was oppressively heavy as Gilbert and Feliciano stood in front of Antonio's desk, it was only to be expected considering there had just been a death. The other twin had been completely inconsolable for the last couple hours. Even now, his cheeks were wet and his eyes were bright red. Gilbert appeared to be the only one who hadn't been crying. Antonio had fared; little better, his voice was almost completely gone from crying. His face was completely red and looked almost swollen. All the same, he was trying to speak with authority, "I realize that we are all a bit shaken, but it is our responsibility to keep order. I have ordered all the patients back to their rooms with at least one orderly at each door. The three of us need to talk to each of them individually. We need to rule out the possibility that this was organized."

Gilbert immediately scoffed, although it wasn't completely genuine because he knew that it was organized, "Natalia is a delusional girl, she's not capable of organizing anything. She did this because one of her visions told her to." It was not completely a lie because he suspected that Ivan had preyed on her delusions to manipulate her into killing. But, Gilbert desperately needed to convince everyone else that Ivan couldn't have been involved. Feli unexpectedly spoke, "Gil, it's better if we do. My family needs to know we did everything we could." The tone of his voice was strangely forceful, but it didn't convince the albino. He burst out, "But this is a waste of time."

Antonio cut in sharply, standing up as he spoke to attempt to convey more authority, "You don't have any right to talk, Gilbert. Natalia was on your caseload. You were responsible for her. So, for the rest of the day you are going to do exactly what I say. First, you'll go talk to your serial killer, then you'll talk to Natalia, and then you will come talk to me." The authoritative tone was enough to snap Gilbert back into obedience, he responded shortly, "As you wish." Antonio nodded shortly, "Good. Now both of you should leave, I have things to handle alone. I need to make some phone calls." With that, the other two left to take care of their separate charges.

As soon as they were out of the door and the door was closed behind him. Feliciano put his hand on Gilbert's arm to stop him. It was a soft touch, but it conveyed a lot. The albino looked over at the brunette with a sense of confusion, but didn't speak. The other said, his voice shaking slightly, "I went back to Lovi's room after he-" His voice faltered and Gilbert said softly, "It's ok, take your time." It was almost strange to see the grief of a twin left alone. In Gilbert's experience, it had always be imperative that the twins died within minutes of each other in order to keep the results of the experiments as error free as possible. The brunette took a deep breath before pulling a manila envelope out of the inner pocket of his jacket. He explained, "This was in Lovi's room. It has your name on it, so I thought it was only proper to give it to you." Gilbert took the envelope without question, but his curiosity was piqued. It seemed that this was all Feli could manage in the moment. He turned away and Gilbert could hear a small sob as the boy walked away.

Gilbert reached Ivan's room quickly and this time didn't even bother to pause at the door. The orderlies on either side of the door seemed to be watching him with a bit too much curiosity for his liking. But, it didn't matter. They couldn't have known what happened the night before. He entered the room. Immediately he noticed the difference from the night before. In the normal light of day, everything was reduced back to normal size. Ivan had a chair set up looking directly at the door. He had a self-satisfied smirk on his face. He started to speak as soon as he caught sight of Gilbert, "Weren't his screams of agony delicious?"

Gilbert responded sharply, "Is that what you did it for, to get back at Antonio for just flirting with me?" The other's expression slipped into something more quizzical, "That's part of it. I thought losing the man that he lost his virtue for would prove a nice little wake up for the priest. But, my other reason is in your hand. Open the envelope." Gilbert was dubious, but he knew by now that Ivan had a strange kind of clairvoyance. He took the envelope and opened it in a single motion. He removed a single file folder, which bore an eagle and a swastika on the front.

Gilbert's skin turned to ice as he realized what this must be. Sure enough, he opened it to see his entire military record. He had thought this had been buried in the chaos at the end of the war. It would have taken a lot of works to find these, let alone get them out of Soviet controlled East Germany. Lovino must have been quite busy to find these. There could be no doubt of the intention either. The boy had threatened to expose Gilbert, and this would have effectively done it. Suddenly, Gilbert felt no remorse at all about not being able to stop Lovino's death.

He looked back at Ivan and said, "Well, this changes things." The other responded, "You see, I had to get rid of him. If that file had ended up in your employer's hands, we would have been separated. I couldn't allow that, especially with the progress we have made recently." The albino took a couple steps closer to Ivan and said with a slight smile, "Then you saved me." Ivan's eyebrow went up slightly and he said, "And that's how you express your gratitude for it?" There was no pretense from either of them about this being a normal session. That would have been a complete farce. They both knew what had happened and there was no reason to pretend otherwise.

Gilbert responded, still standing a small distance away, "Oh, I should say thank you, shouldn't I?" Ivan smirked and kept his violet eyes fixed on the albino, "No, my dear. What you should do is come sit on my lap and whisper how grateful you are in my ear." Gilbert glanced at the door behind him to make sure that it was completely closed. The night before had felt surreal, but now was different. There could be consequences now, especially considering the situation. If anyone else talked about the connection between Ivan and Natalia, then Ivan would naturally be under suspicion. It would not do now to have this strange budding relationship discovered. The door was completely closed, so Gilbert turned back to the other with a slight smirk, "Are you courting your doctor?" The other responded with a hint of playful frustration, "No, I'm courting a Nazi. Now come over here." The albino sauntered over and sat resolutely in the other's lap, his legs straddling the other.

This felt right, even if the situation didn't make logical sense. Gilbert knew that this man had orchestrated another man's death, but on the grand scale of how much blood was on their hands this seemed insignificant. He put both of his hands on Ivan's shoulders and leaned in closer. He whispered, "Thank you for keeping my secret." He felt the other's hands moving up his thighs, eventually making their way to his lower back. The albino looked straight at the other and felt something rise in him, but he couldn't identify what.

He was about to speak, when Ivan said, "I know you have to go talk to Nat. I could also tell you what she's going to say, but you need to hear it from her. I just need to hear one thing from you: Did you enjoy last night?" He looked genuinely concerned. Gilbert responded quickly, and somewhat honestly, "I did. But don't ask for it to happen again." The look on Ivan's face indicated that he didn't believe the second half of the statement, "Then go. You've got some interesting news to hear anyway."

A pair of handcuffs restrained Natalia and there were white clad orderlies on either side of her who didn't leave the room when Gilbert entered. Again, he was struck by how much she looked like a little girl, with her eyes wide and staring. Her hands were still tinted red by the blood. Gilbert sat across the table from her and looked up at the orderlies on either side. He spoke to them first, "Please leave us, I need to talk to her alone." One of them responded, "Dr. Carriedo said we are not to leave her." Gilbert sighed and said as forcefully as he could, "And I'm telling you to leave. I am her primary doctor and this is my responsibility." The pair looked at each other, but decided to follow the order.

Once they were gone, Natalia spoke without prompting, "Why would you send them away? They're here to protect you from me." The albino responded resolutely, "I don't think you're a danger to me. I know who tells to kill." A new understanding dawned in her eyes and a smile fluttered across her face. She spoke quickly and almost frenetically, "You understand now, don't you? It happened just like he said it would. He took human form and he came to me. He's going to release me." It was clear to Gilbert that Ivan had manipulated a delusion in order to recruit an assassin. It was deplorable behavior and Natalia had been naïve enough to fall for it.

The albino looked at her sympathetically and said, "Ivan is just a man. I won't be able to help you if you keep listening to him." He didn't add that he understood the pull of Ivan's personality. She reacted at once, snapping back, "You're wrong! I know he's Lucifer; I can see it." There was an undeniable mania in her eyes and it was frightening. She had latched onto Ivan's lies, and it seemed impossible to dissuade her. If she continued to be convinced, Gilbert wasn't certain what he would do. With one doctor dead, there needed to be a breakthrough in this discussion.

Gilbert tried a different tactic, "How can he prove to you that he's Lucifer?" This attempt also failed. Natalia replied again, "I can see it. I saw his wings; I can feel his power." The word wing stuck out of the sentence. Gilbert immediately remembered the black wings he had seen in his trance the night before. Those had been a hallucination or something similar, it wasn't possible that he could be having the same delusions as Natalia. He shook his head and tried to dispel the thought. He looked back up at her and said, "He can't set you free. I don't care what you think he is. He's not here for you, I can promise you that." She shook her head and leaned back, "How would you know anything about it?" He slowly stood up, deciding that revealing his relationship with Ivan was not prudent at this moment. He took a couple steps back without saying anything. She tilted her head to the side slightly and said, "You have the mark of the beast upon you. He's touched you." Gilbert said, facing the door, "There's no such thing as the devil." In that moment, he had to question who he was actually trying to convince.

Antonio was still in his office when Gilbert came back. He looked as if he had taken the time to make himself look somewhat less shattered. It hardly made a difference, but it did indicate an attempt to mask the emotions. Gilbert spoke, "I'm back, Antonio. What do you want from me?" The Spaniard gestured at the chair across the desk from him. He didn't speak, but his meaning was clear. Gilbert took the seat and wondered what this could possibly be about. He couldn't be expected to report on anything this quickly.

Antonio pushed a form across the table to him and handed him a pen. Only when the albino was looking at the form puzzled did Antonio speak, "I need your signature to approve a lobotomy." Gilbert didn't need to ask whom the lobotomy was for, it was already clear from the events of the day. He couldn't allow this to happen when he knew that the fault didn't lie with Natalia. He refused to take the pen. He looked up at Antonio and said, "I won't sign this."

The Spaniard had a vicious look in his eyes that belonged to a vengeful man, and it was also clear in his voice, "This isn't a choice, Gilbert. This is only a requirement. She is a danger to everyone, so this must be done." The albino couldn't swallow his objections this time. He took the pen and immediately put it down. He spoke sharply, "I won't put my name on this." He tried to ignore the voice in the back of his head that pointed the irony of finally caring about his patient's wellbeing. The truth was that he didn't care about Natalia's wellbeing; this was a case of being unable to justify malpractice. When he had been an SS doctor, he had been working for an ideology and a greater good. There was nothing but vengeance in this.

Antonio smiled and there was something genuinely terrifying in it, "You will, or you will find yourself without a job." Gilbert growled, but held his tongue. He didn't have a choice; he couldn't leave anyone else with Ivan. He also couldn't deny that the idea of being away from Ivan now was painful. He picked the pen up and grudgingly signed the form. He slammed down the pen when he was done and said, "When is this going to be done?" Antonio grabbed the piece of paper and responded, "Tomorrow morning." Gilbert stood up and said, "May I go, boss." Antonio nodded, "But remember that I'm going to wake you early for the lobotomy. You'll need to be there."


	11. Chapter 11

Alfred pulled a thick red book with the words, "Demon Encyclopedia" across the spine off of the shelf. The front was emblazoned with an inverted pentagram. It wasn't one of the symbols that Alfred was looking for, but the book itself seemed promising. He carried it over to a table and opened it to the first section. Immediately he saw one of the two symbols he was looking for.

The first section was on Lucifer, and above the heading was the symbol that had been on the wall of the asylum. A downward facing triangle made of a series of lines was quite clearly the same. Alfred's heart started pounding in his chest. If this was really a symbol of Lucifer, then there was something truly dark going on here. He had to turn a few pages into the section to find the symbol again. It was labeled as the seal of Lucifer and the paragraph beneath it explained that the symbol could be used to evoke the devil. Alfred swallowed the worry rising in his throat and scrawled the word Lucifer at the bottom of the drawing of the symbol.

He started flipping through the book in search of the other, the sword through a pentagram. The next few pages were not helpful, and then he stumbled upon it. It was captioned, "One of the many symbols of the archangel Samael." Alfred turned back a few pages and found the beginning of the section. It was labeled Samael: The Angel of Death. Alfred's hand was shaking as he attempted to write this name under the symbol he had drawn. This was strange, to find the symbols of two of the most powerful fallen angels in a place that felt so sinister. He had known that there was something supernatural and evil in that place, but now he was beginning to suspect that it was demonic.

He heard a voice right behind him, "Alfred." He immediately sprung to his feet and turned around. He raised one hand as if he was expecting to strike whoever was behind him. Arthur was looking at him like he was crazy, "Calm down, you idiot." Alfred took a breath and sat back down. He ran his hand through his hair and realized that he was being paranoid.

Arthur sat down next to Alfred and said carefully, "I didn't want to believe that there was something dodgy with the job, but with your brother in the hospital I can't ignore it. I went through those files I pulled out and I found this." He pulled a faded folder out of his bag and laid it on the table. Alfred could see the faded outline of a swastika on the front. He could hardly believe what he was seeing. Demons were one thing, but Nazis were a different kind of evil all together. Combining the two was truly disturbing. He flipped open the file and the picture of a handsome albino staring up at him. The man's face was very striking, but the light in the back of the eyes was clearly evil. The red eyes seemed hauntingly familiar. Since he didn't speak German, Alfred couldn't read any of the records, but the single word Auschwitz was all he needed to see.

He looked back up at Arthur and said, "Is this real?" The other nodded, "As far as I can tell." Alfred whistled slightly and tried not to shiver. This was something he had not been expecting, and he voiced that, "What are the chances of finding a Nazi at an obscure asylum like this? What was he institutionalized for anyway?" Arthur sighed and started to drum his fingers on the table. Alfred caught on and said, "What is it, Arthur?" The other responded, "I checked the records. He wasn't a patient. He was a doctor." That seemed all the stranger. Alfred tried to bring some sense to this and said, "Well, what happened to him?" Arthur responded, "That's really the mystery. He completely disappears off any records after the closing of asylum." Alfred put this in simpler words, "So, he disappeared."  
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When Gilbert got back to his room, he immediately looked for the books on demons. His mind was fixed not on the lobotomy he had just approved. He was thinking about Natalia's assertion that Ivan was Lucifer. He didn't want to believe it, but all of the given information was pointing to. He grabbed the book and flipped it open to the beginning of the section on Lucifer. He read through it again quickly, looking for information to disprove the theory on Ivan's identity. On his first read, the only sentence that stuck out to him was, "He is capable of shifting his appearance to be pleasing to his target."

Gilbert turned away from the book for a minute to try and tell himself that it couldn't mean what he thought it meant. The devil could have chosen to appear as his old lover in order to tempt him. Gilbert flipped back to the beginning of the section again and started to read again. He found himself pacing across his room so fast that he felt like he was going to wear a groove into the floor. He was willing the words to change, to mean something else. He needed something truly concrete to deny all this nonsense. The words that continued to affirm Natalia's accusation. For the third time, he read the sentence; "The devil knows every person's hidden sins and will use them to his advantage." It was too accurate to his situation.

He slammed the book closed and, in a single motion, hurled it across the room. It hit the wall with a loud thud and slid to the floor. Gilbert didn't care about the fate of the book; he was too concerned with the undeniable realization that the man who looked so much like his old lover may be the devil. He stopped pacing and sunk to the floor. He put his head in his hands and closed his eyes. None of this was actually true; he was just getting himself worked into a mania. Being surrounded by all this madness was clearly getting to him. He tried to take deep breaths to calm himself. His chest was heaving as though he was actually exerting himself in the effort to calm his mind. He spoke aloud, "I don't believe any of it."

The light touch of flesh ghosted over the back of his neck. The albino felt himself exhale slowly. A very familiar voice spoke in his ear, "Nor should you." The albino's eyes fluttered open and he looked behind him. His eyes met bright violet. He felt himself smile as he looked into Ivan's face. He felt one arm around his waist and the other was caressing his neck. He didn't bother to ask how Ivan had gotten here when Gilbert was completely awake, it didn't seem to matter. When Ivan spoke again, it became clearer, "That book will just turn you against me."

The voice was a rough whisper, but it was tinted with a heavy Russian accent. This was the version of Ivan that was based off of memories; this one only existed in Gilbert's dreams. The hands felt real enough, as did the hot breath that Gilbert could feel against his neck. The two versions of Ivan seemed to be merging into each other. One was spilling from the world of dreams into reality and it was utterly confusing. The albino leaned back and found that the Russian's shoulder was there to catch him.

The albino closed his eyes and shook his head in an attempt to figure out what was real and what wasn't. He felt the other's arm tighten on his waist, almost protectively. With his eyes still closed, Gilbert spoke again, "You're not actually here. This is just another fucking nightmare." His ears were filled with a soft chuckle, "Don't pay attention to what logic tells you. Pay attention to what you feel." Soft sweet kisses were pressed to the albino's neck. The red eyes opened again and found the Russian still beside him, lips pressed to skin.

Gilbert reached over and put his own hand on the other's leg. The solidness and the warmth beneath his hand were all the confirmation he needed. Without any logical reason, this was completely real. The albino spoke again, "This is real. How can this be real? I saw you die." Ivan moved the hand that was not around Gilbert's waist so that it was sitting on top of the hand that was on his leg. Their eyes met and the Russian spoke, "I came back for you, that's all you need to know." He leaned forward and kissed the albino on the forehead.

Gilbert was not done with his questions. He said, "But why come back?" The violet eyes widened in shock, as if he couldn't believe that he was hearing. He smiled and said, "You shouldn't have to ask that. I love you. Do you love me?" Gilbert felt himself melting beneath the other's eyes. The feelings from years ago were no longer repressed, but a grain of caution was still holding him back. He looked down and said, "I want to say that I do, but I can't." Ivan sighed but the smile didn't slip from his face, "Obstinate as always, aren't you?"

Gilbert felt himself smile and reached up to touch Ivan's face. The other mirrored the gesture and put his hand on Gilbert's face. The Russian crooned, almost to himself, "You're so close now, so close to being mine." The other purred, not caring what he sounded like, "I want that, Ivan." He leaned in closer so that there were only a couple inches of space between that. The Russian smirked, "You don't know what you're asking me for." He leaned in and kissed Gilbert on the cheek. As he pulled away, he put his finger to the albino's lips to stop him from speaking. He continued to speak, "Go to sleep, you'll need your rest for tomorrow." Gilbert immediately felt drowsiness pierce him to the bone. As he closed his eyes, he leaned back and his head was perfectly cradled by Ivan's shoulder.

Sharp wrapping on the door awoke him. Gilbert sat up and only then registered that he was lying in bed, despite distinctly remembering falling asleep in Ivan's arms on the floor. It didn't bother him though, considering that this was far better than waking up from a nightmare. He got out of bed and got dressed before answering the door. He knew what to expect, but it didn't make seeing Antonio flanked by orderlies any more pleasant.

He nodded wordlessly at Antonio and walked out into the hall. The Spaniard started talking, "You seem to be in a more cooperative mood this morning." Gilbert grudgingly responded, "I realized that there was no point in arguing with you." Antonio chuckled slightly under his breath, "Well, that makes things easier." They stopped outside of the room that Natalia was being kept in and waited as the orderlies went in to retrieve Natalia.

The girl looked pathetically small between the two orderlies. She looked up at Gilbert as she was led out. She spoke directly at him, completely ignoring Antonio, "Now you'll see. He'll save me." Gilbert slowly shook his head. He knew that there was no way for her to get out of this. But, he also knew that there was no way to talk her out of her delusion. He didn't respond, but he did look at her pityingly. She was continuing to struggle against the two holding her, but it was useless. Antonio spoke to the orderlies, effectively returning the brush off that she had given him, "Take her to the surgery room. Everything has already been prepared." They dragged the girl away like she weighed less than a doll.

Once she was a few feet away, Gilbert turned to Antonio and said in one last attempt, "We don't have to do this. This won't do any good and it certainly won't help her." The other looked the albino over with a smirk, "You really do have moral compunctions, don't you? Don't worry; I won't make you do it. I plan to perform this surgery myself." He started to walk away and Gilbert fell into step half a foot behind. They descended into the lower levels of the asylum and finally stopped at a plain door. The orderlies had already unlocked it, so Antonio only needed to push the door open.

Natalia was already half-restrained and kicking out against the men who were attempting to restrain her legs. The room itself projected a feeling of gloom. The walls were covered in light grey tiles. The floors were paneled in a very dark wood. There were no windows in the room, so the entirety was illuminated by a series of bright light bulbs in the ceiling that made the room almost unbearably bright. There wasn't a single dark corner. All of the objects in the room cast sharp shadows. The operating table was at the center of the room and it was the sight of the uneven struggle between Natalia and the orderlies. The two men finally withdrew when the final restraint was tightened around her ankle.

Antonio spoke directly to Gilbert, "Sedate her." The albino didn't dare defy direct orders, not now. He walked over to the table next to the operating table, which was full of shining metal tools. Gilbert had assisted in so many surgeries before, forced sterilizations mostly, but this was the only one that made him feel slightly sick. Numbly, he picked up a vile and a syringe. He stuck the needle into the vile of sedative and extracted as much as was safe for Natalia's body weight. He walked over to the table and carefully plunged the needle into the pale flesh of the girl's upper arm. All of the fight slowly faded out of all of her muscles. Her hands and feet went completely limp. Gilbert watched as her big violet eyes slowly clouded over with the effects of the drug.

Antonio walked over to the other side of the operating table and looked down at the semi-conscious girl with a small smile. He looked back up at Gilbert and said, "Let's get this over with. Hand me the orbitoclast." Gilbert grabbed the shining instrument, which resembled an ice pick. It felt unnervingly smooth and cold against his skin; it was almost like grabbing ice. He handed the implement across the table to the Spaniard, who took it wordlessly. Antonio negotiated the point of the instrument under the eyelid right next to the tear duct of Natalia's right eye.

He took a slow breath and then looked back up at the other again, "Hand me the mallet." Again, Gilbert complied, but the feeling of dread was mounting. Antonio took the mallet and struck the back of the other instrument, driving it through the thin bone of the back of the eye socket. The metallic sound of metal hitting metal was accompanied by the wet crack of metal piercing bone. Antonio slowly exhaled through his nose, as though attempting to steady himself. He brought the mallet down again and drove the spike still deeper into the skull. This time the soft squish of tissue was quite audible.

Then, slowly he pivoted the spike, so that the tip of it moved beneath the bone of the skull to cut the nerves. Once that step was completed, Antonio took another shaky breath. His hands were steady, but it was clear that he was not entirely comfortable with what he was doing. Carefully, he returned the instrument to its original position. He raised the mallet again and exhaled as he brought it down again, the metallic clang and the squish of soft tissue again accompanied the strike. Antonio made one final rotation with the spike to cut the deeper nerves, and then he slowly removed the spike from the eye. Slight purple bruising was already blossoming around the eye. A shaky smile spread across Antonio's face. He looked up at Gilbert and said, "That went perfectly."

A single wisp of wind floated into the room. It was icy cold and Gilbert felt it seize him immediately. The cold spread up his legs and arms, like it was spreading through him like it was traveling in his blood. Suddenly, Natalia started to jerk and thrash against the restraints. The leather of the restraints creaked in its attempt to hold onto the girl. Gilbert and Antonio quickly shared a worried look before looking back at Natalia.

The light bruising around the eye was now turning darker and darker red. It spread out around the eye very quickly, like liquid flowing freely. She started to cough and wheeze. Dark red specks of blood came out when she coughed. Blood bubbled up in her throat and filled her mouth. The jerking started to subside as the dark red liquid filled her mouth and ran out of both sides onto the table. She tried to pull in one more unsteady breath and only managed to make tiny bubbles appear in the pool of blood forming in her mouth. With one more substantial jerk, she stopped moving completely.

Gilbert grabbed her wrist and desperately searched for a pulse. He couldn't find one, and the realization quickly dawned on him. He voiced it hollowly, "She's dead." Antonio was staring at the body with a look of complete shellshock on his face. He spoke with no real emotion in his voice, "I don't understand. I didn't do anything wrong and she just started hemorrhaging. It shouldn't have happened like this. I don't understand." Gilbert looked down at the dead girl, who was now lying in a pool of her own blood and said, "I think I do."


	12. Chapter 12

Gilbert walked with long certain strides to Ivan's room. He threw open the door with no pretense. There was no doubt for him now about what was going on, the pieces had all fallen into place. Natalia's death was the last clue he needed. Ivan was standing on the other side of the room looking directly at the door with his back to the window. The room was filled with golden light, which was flooding in through the window around Ivan. The man smiled and said, "You're here early today."

The albino planted his feet firmly and responded, "Natalia is dead, but you already knew that, didn't you?" Ivan's eyebrows shot up and his smile widened, "I suppose I did. It is a pity." The evasiveness stoked Gilbert's temper. He knew that this man was responsible for the death. Ivan had no right to act as though he had not been involved. Gilbert responded with a snarl, "Don't play these games with me, Lucifer." He paused before saying the name because it was his final admission that he believed. He had to be right, because if he weren't then he would come across completely deranged.

Ivan started to laugh and the temperature in the room dropped. The door slammed behind Gilbert as if a strong gust of wind had knocked it closed. The albino turned around to look at the door, which was now firmly closed. In the midst of his laughter, Ivan spoke, "Good boy, Gil. I was beginning to think that you'd never reason it out." The albino turned back around slowly, trying to comprehend what he was hearing and seeing. The man's appearance had changed. The drab attire of an asylum inmate was gone; a sleek outfit of all black replaced it. More striking was the appearance of a set of jet-black feathery wings, just like the ones that Natalia had described. However, none of the other features of his appearance had changed. The face, although paler and glowing with an unholy light, was exactly the same as Gilbert's Soviet lover. There was an aura around him that was a strange mix of light and flowing darkness. He was now clearly the devil, almost as perfectly as if a Renaissance master had painted him.

Ivan spoke, "You look surprised, my dear. Was I not what you expected me to be? Am I missing the horns and the hooves?" Gilbert drew a deep breath in through his nose. What he was attempting to figure out was why the face was still the same. Based off of what he had read, Lucifer was changing his appearance in order to be tempting. He spoke, keeping the venom in his voice, "What does your face really look like? I know you're trying to trick me." Again, the other chuckled and looked at Gilbert with a sense of amusement. He walked a little closer, his aura following him and spreading through the room. When he spoke, his voice was smooth, "I know what you're thinking, Gil, but I never changed my appearance to suit you."

Gilbert tried to take a small step back, but found himself unable to move. The fallen angel took another step forward and continued to talk, "The truth is that you never had a mortal lover. I have always been your lover." Gilbert recoiled and willed his feet to move. He managed to take one step back, which helped only marginally with the space between them. He spoke between his gritted teeth, "You lie. The devil always lies to get what he wants."

Ivan rolled his eyes and the entirety of the room darkened slightly. His smile faded into a sinister smirk, "Is that what that priest told you? It's convenient isn't it, to just deny everything I say because I lie." When he spoke about Antonio, Gilbert saw a fire ignite in the back of the violet eyes. It was undeniable anger, made even clearer by a further darkening of the room. The albino chose to stand his ground this time since retreating didn't seem to be a viable option. He rebutted by saying, "You lied to Natalia. You told her you would protect her. She believed you would save her."

Lucifer took a couple more steps towards the albino. Now they were so close together that all the angel needed to do was reach out and he could touch Gilbert. He kept his hands at his sides for the time being and responded, "I didn't say I would protect her. I told her I would release her, and I have. I released her from this miserable existence." Gilbert's hands curled into fists. He could feel himself shaking with rage. If Natalia could be so easily deceived, so could he. He couldn't lie to himself enough to think that he hadn't been falling for Ivan. He responded, "So you killed her." Lucifer shook his head, "I didn't kill her. Antonio killed her. I did nothing to stop the inevitable consequence of his blunder. But, now her soul-" He put his hand over his heart and continued speaking, "-is with me for eternity. Death is the consequence. The body cannot survive without the soul. I always get my due, and all of the souls that have sinned belong to me."

He reached out and put his hand on the albino's cheek. His eyes were cold and predatory. He purred sweetly, "Which means that your beautiful soul, soaked in the blood of the innocent, belongs to me." Gilbert took a small step back to attempt to get away from the hand. He didn't want to like the touch of Lucifer's skin against his own, but he couldn't stop himself. The hand against his face had made his heart flutter in his chest.

Once the touch was gone, he said, "You would know about innocent blood. You killed Lovino and he was innocent." The other smirked and closed the distance between them again. He looked very comfortable with the way this conversation was going. There was almost mockery in his voice when he said, "Innocent? That boy had killed for nothing but greed and power. When Antonio said his family was influential, did you not understand what that was a euphemism for?" Gilbert shook his head in attempt to ward off the idea. He didn't want to consider that someone else had been hiding a dark past. Surely he would have seen through somebody else's lies, especially someone who had blood on their hands.

The angel continued, "There is a price for every sin. He paid his. Now you get a choice." He moved his hand from Gilbert's cheek to stroking the white hair. He leaned in closer, "You can willingly give me your soul, or I can rip it from you." The albino looked up and his eyes met the violet eyes of the devil. The nightmares he had had came to the forefront of his mind again. Gilbert knew what he had done. He had killed and tortured thousands of people, and he now knew that his guilt was undeniable. His guilty imagination had done enough to convince him of that. His mind also drifted to Natalia and Lovino. They had both died because Lucifer was trying to get at him. Refusing now could lead to more pointless death. But one feeling rose in the back of his mind and dominated his thoughts. He loved feeling Ivan's arms around him, craved the other's affections. As much as he wanted to deny it, there was something of love in it. If this is what Ivan truly wanted from him, then he was not going to deny it. He finally spoke, "I'm damned anyway. I will give it to you willingly. As you said, the body can't survive without the soul, so I suppose I choose to die."

A radiant smile instantly appeared on the other's face. An almost childish giggle cascaded out of his throat. He took a couple long strides backwards, so that he was standing in the middle of the room. Gilbert felt a sense of confusion at the gesture. He had expected to be immediately engulfed in darkness or something to that effect. Instead, the devil was walking away from him. Ivan looked back and read the expression. He answered it, "You must walk over to me of your own free will. It signifies your acceptance."

Gilbert nodded curtly and started to walk over. He understood what he was agreeing to, but he felt strangely at peace with it. With every step, the angel's violet eyes grew brighter. One could even say that they were hungry. Once Gilbert was close enough, a strange wind picked up, swirling in a perfect circle around them. He glanced down and noticed that a small ring of fire had appeared on the floor around them. He took a couple more steps so that he was right in front of Ivan, who immediately reached out and grabbed him around the waist. The fallen angel said softly, "I knew it. I knew you were the one. I could have taken your soul so much earlier than this, but I wanted you to know what you were surrendering to me and why."

Gilbert pulled himself closer to the other. He could physically feel the aura of power caressing him, it swirled around the pair of them just like the wind in the room. The black wings folded around him possessively. He felt black feathers brush against the backs of his arms. Gilbert wrapped his arms around the other's shoulders and said, his voice barely audible, "So, what do I do now?" Lucifer put his hand softly under the albino's chin and responded, "You let me give you the kiss you have been longing for."

Without any further pretense, he leaned forward and connected their lips. Gilbert immediately felt the other's tongue in his mouth. He knew instinctively that he shouldn't try to fight for dominance; he was kissing the devil and he couldn't possibly win. As the kiss deepened still further, Gilbert felt warmth in his chest. It rose steadily up through his throat. It felt burning hot and tasted strangely rancid. The heat slipped into his mouth, where the taste of it almost choked him. It was completely spoiled and tasted like blood. The other's tongue coaxed the heat forward, out of Gilbert's mouth.

As it disappeared, the albino felt himself growing weak. Only Lucifer's hands were holding him up. He slowly opened his eyes to look at his lover again. The other was pulling away. Gilbert's vision was going black and there was no tension left in his muscles. Lucifer said simply, "It is done." He released the albino and the body fell to the floor.


	13. Chapter 13

Alfred closed the book and rubbed his temples, trying to make sense of all of the information. He looked up at Arthur and said, "You found a Nazi and I found demons. Do you think there is a connection between the two?" Arthur looked over at the two symbols in front of Alfred and his eyes locked onto one of the drawings. He grabbed it and looked at it before saying, "Are you certain this is the Angel of Death?"

Alfred nodded, although he was slightly confused. He asked the most obvious question he could come up with, "Why does it matter?" The other looked at him like he was being a complete idiot and responded, "It may be a coincidence, but Nazi doctors were often referred to as angels of death because they killed their patients." Alfred took a second to process the information and finally voiced it, "So you think that this symbol and the file are referring to the same person?" Arthur shook his head evasively, "I'm just speculating, but it is possible."  
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Samael was sitting by the bank of the river with his sword across his knee and a whetstone in his hand. He ran it over the sword slowly, making sure to smooth out the tiny scratches. There was a certain serenity in this, sitting on the grass looking out over the crystal clear river. It was rushing and churning in a rhythmic fashion. He put down the whetstone and ran one hand through his white hair, which had fallen into his eyes. He placed his sword carefully on the grass beside him, right next to his silver breastplate. He was still wearing his gauntlets and silver sandals.

He leaned back on his elbows and spoke, "I know you're watching me, Lucifer." He didn't bother to look around behind him, but he heard Lucifer speak behind him, "I didn't want to disturb you." Samael half-closed his eyes against the warm light of the sun and responded, "I couldn't be doing anything I wouldn't put on hold for you." He heard a couple hesitant steps behind him. Lucifer spoke again, "You look so beautiful when you're deep in thought." Samael turned around at this point and looked over at the other. The light wind made Lucifer's ash blonde locks seem to dance. His violet eyes and his golden breastplate were both reflecting the shining sunlight. His white wings were tucked behind him.

Samael caught his breath and tried not to think about how gorgeous the angel of light looked. He spoke, "We're angels; we're all supposed to be beautiful." He beckoned to the other, "Come sit next to me. You make me nervous when you stand around like that." The taller angel walked over and sat on the grass next to the other. Once he was sitting he fixed his violet eyes on Samael and said, "There are thousands of angels, but there is only one angel of death. None of them look like you, with your eyes like blood and your skin like a corpse."

The albino smiled and responded, "Humans find me unnerving." Lucifer reached over and put his hand under the other's chin and turned his head so that they were looking directly into each other's eyes. He spoke, "Then they don't recognize beauty." The albino smiled slightly and leaned closer. Their faces were now very close together. There was conflict clear in the violet eyes. Lucifer pulled away suddenly and resolutely turned his face. He said, still facing away and obviously trying to change the subject, "Who did you kill today? You only ever sharpen your sword when you have killed."

Samael glanced over at his sword glittering in the grass next to him. The change of subject was abrupt and left him slightly disoriented. All the same, he answered, "A warrior king. He fell leading his men on the field of battle. I freed him with a single drop of poison. He died the way a man should." Lucifer turned his head back toward the albino angel and said, "I admire your passion for your work." His eyes spoke volumes more; they showed tender emotion. Samael put his hand on the other's leg and said teasingly, "Is that all you admire about me?"

The other immediately stood up and took a hurried step backwards. He ran his hands through his hair as he struggled to speak. Finally, he burst out, "Why must you be like this this?" The hostile question seemed completely out of the blue. Samael couldn't help but feel stung. He had done nothing to deserve this. He responded and attempted to not sound hurt, "What do you mean by that?" Lucifer shook his head and wetness began to well at the corners of his eyes, "You are so perfect and I can't stand it." Samael stood up and attempted to take a step towards the other. Lucifer responded by quickly taking another step backwards to maintain the distance between them. He spoke again, now sounding desperate, "You don't understand. I have had treacherous, sinful, carnal thoughts about you."

The wind picked up and became suddenly colder at the admission. Samael kept his eyes fixed on Lucifer, whose eyes were begging for understanding. The angel of light turned away and said as he did so, "Now you know how weak and corrupt I am. I will not begrudge you if you leave." The albino closed the space between them in several strides. He didn't speak; instead he put his hand on the other's shoulder. When Lucifer turned his head back to look at him, completely puzzled, Samael closed the space between them and captured Lucifer's lips with his own. The skin-on-skin contact sent sparks through the angel.

But, Lucifer pulled away and said, "I don't understand." Samael wrapped one of his hands around the back of the other's neck and said, "I think you do." He leaned in again and resumed the kiss. This time, Lucifer reacted by putting one hand on the other's hips and one right between the snowy white wings. He pulled Samael close against his chest. The kiss deepened, Lucifer's tongue dipping cautiously into the other's mouth. The albino moaned encouragingly, but the sound seemed to break the other.

He pulled away, but kept his hands firmly in place. He kept his forehead touching the other's. He was breathing heavily and his violet eyes were fixed on Samael's ruby eyes. The words he spoke seemed to cause him pain, "We aren't supposed to do this. It's against the laws of heaven, and we will be cast out if we go any further. I don't want to damn you."

The albino immediately recoiled and pulled out of the other's arm. He gritted his teeth against his own surge of emotion and said, "How dare you? I'm not a little lamb for you to corrupt. My choices are my own. I know the cost and I know what I want." His anger stemmed mostly from the rejection. It had been his choice to return the affection, and now he was being told that rejection was for his protection. He turned on his heels and walked over to where he had laid his sword and breastplate in the grass. He first slipped the sword back into the scabbard on his belt. He then took the breastplate and fastened it at the shoulders.

As he worked, Lucifer said, "Please, Samael, I didn't mean it like that. I don't care what happens to me; I just don't want to ruin you." The albino looked over his shoulder and said, "If I choose to fall, the choice is mine. If you still want me, come find me tonight." Lucifer looked down at his feet, even his wings seemed to droop a little. When he looked back up, he said, "Where?" The albino surreptitiously licked his lips and said with a smirk, "You'll know where."

The dusk was setting in as Samael leaned against a tree, absentmindedly throwing an apple from one hand to the other. The dark green leaves of the tree were casting long shadows in the late day sun. He was looking around for the other angel he had talked to at the beginning of the day. He heard the voice before he saw the other, "The serpent offering temptation in the Garden of Eden, how poetic."

The albino smirked and looked over at the source of the voice. Lucifer looked radiant in the fading light and something in his eyes had shifted. There was no fear left in them; there was only a sense of determination. Samael held the apple firmly in his left hand and pulled a knife out of his belt with his right. As he cut into the apple, he responded to the other's statement, "I thought you might appreciate it." He cut into the apple one more time and removed a sliver of it. The albino continued talking, "If you are still bothered by the idea of corrupting me, this should put your mind to rest." He took the sliver of apple off the knife blade with his teeth. The taste of the fruit was sweet on his tongue, but it was delicious. As it was for humans, eating the fruit of the tree of knowledge was expressly forbidden. The gesture was deliberate and treacherous. Samael punctuated the gesture with the words, "Rebellion tastes sweet. Do you want to try it?"

Lucifer took a few running steps forward and seized the other angel in his arms. Samael's back was slammed against the tree and he dropped both the knife and the apple, but he didn't care; all that mattered was finally getting what he craved from the other angel. His lips were flush against Lucifer's and their tongues were fighting. The albino's own tongue seemed to be slowly losing the battle for dominance as the other's plunged into his mouth and proceeded to explore it. Lucifer pulled out of kiss only long enough to say, "You're right, rebellion does taste sweet."

Before the other could respond, Lucifer captured his lips again. His hands roamed up both of the other's white legs. Samael felt his breathing become unsteady as the touch reached his inner thighs. Nothing had ever made him feel this way. To be an angel was to be perpetually pure, so this kind of carnal pleasure was completely unknown. He pulled his lips away so he could groan loudly. Every sensation felt clearer. He could feel the bark of the tree against his back even though there was a tunic and a cape separating his back from it.

Lucifer started to kiss the albino's white neck aggressively. Samael felt voluptuous moans slipping between his lips. The sensation was better than anything divinely ordained. He, guided by the other's hands, wrapped his legs around Lucifer's waist. The taller angel disengaged his lips to whisper roughly in the albino's ear, "This is your last chance. If you want to stop, tell me now." Samael responded, "I'm not turning back now."

Without any hesitation, Lucifer used his hands to move the other's tunic out of the way and then pushed into him. The albino bit down on his own lower lip. There was no pain, but the feeling was strange. Slowly, the other moved and Samael let out a deep throaty moan. The friction sent undeniable pleasure racing through him. He closed his eyes and tipped his head backwards. He was surrendering himself fully to this carnal sin. After a few thrusts, Lucifer hit something deep inside the albino. It sent sparks of blinding passion coursing through his blood. Samael screamed the other's name into the night like it was that of God.

His virgin body could take little more. The thrusts were now so strong that they felt like they were bruising his wings, which were pressed against the tree. Lucifer's mouth was again against his own, drinking in his moans like they were sustaining him. He came, hoarsely moaning his lover's name. The other followed shortly after. As they finished, the albino gave a shaky laugh, "Was it worth it?" Lucifer grabbed his chin and joined their lips again in another deep kiss.

As they kissed thunder boomed through the sky with such force that it shook the ground. Samael pulled away from the kiss and said, "I expect that's in response to our rebellion." Lucifer looked up at the sky with an expression of amusement on his face, "I suppose we should go quietly then." Samael shook his head and said with a confident smirk, "No, we will split the heavens with war. I refused to be damned without a fight."  
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Samael was standing facing his brother, his sword in his hands. He was shaking from rage as the battle around him continued. Michael's blue eyes pierced right through him, judging him. The screams and battle cries were all that could be heard around them. Michael swept back some of his stray blonde hair out of his face with the hand that was not holding his sword. Unlike his brother, Michael was not standing in a stance that indicated he was about to attack. He spoke in a clear ringing voice, addressing his brother, "You don't have to fight me."

The albino shook his head and shifted his grip on his sword so that he could attack more comfortably. He shouted his response, "I think you forget what side I am on." The other shook his head, again disturbing his short blonde hair, "I know who you think you fight for, but Lucifer has already fallen. Hell is all he has to offer now." The news hit Samael heavily. He didn't believe it; he had been parted from his lover in the fighting no more than an hour ago. His voice was full of hot anger when he spit back, "You lie!"

Michael was looking at him with pity. His voice was filled with patience as he answered, "He's the only one who has deceived you. I cast him out myself. His wings were burnt black." Angry tears welled up in the eyes of the albino angel. He took a couple steps backwards, keeping his sword between himself and Michael. He shook his head again, unable to express the mixture of rage, disbelief, and sadness he was feeling. The blonde angel extended his free hand and said pleadingly, "Please, Samael, we are more blood related than any other angels. I'm asking you as your brother, please come home with me now."

The albino looked at the hand, but he wasn't swayed. The offer could be nothing but a lie, he had sinned enough on his own to never be forgiven. He locked his eyes on Michael's bright blue ones and said forcefully, "No, I choose to be a demon." With that, he plunged his sword into one of his own wings. The venom that coated the sword instantly started to burn the holy flesh. The pain was more intense than anything that could ever be experienced by a human. It was like all of the feathers on his wings had caught fire. Through his watering eyes, Samael looked back to see his wings turn from snow white to jet-black.  
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It was a little over 20 years past the dawning of the 1900s in a small house on the edge of the city of Berlin. The boy tied to the bed convulsed and shouted in Latin or strange unholy tongues. The priest waved a crucifix and chanted in Latin. In one corner, the boy's mother was huddled in the corner with her husband, pleading for the exorcism to be done quickly. In these times, it was hard to even find a Catholic priest willing to perform an exorcist. But, with the uncharacteristic evil that the boy had been doing, there was no question that it could be anything other than possession.

The priest had tried reading from the bible, but it didn't seem to help and he was getting frustrated. The boy cackled and a voice that was not his own spoke from within him, "Your book will be of no use to you, priest." The man slammed the Bible closed and instead started reciting older psalms. This actually caused the boy to scream like he was in pain. The priest advanced, holding his cross like a weapon. He said, "I invoke the archangel Michael to drive out this evil."

On the level beyond human sight, Michael appeared ready to fight a demon. He found himself face-to-face with his brother. Samael smirked and said, "Are you here to stop me, little angel?" Michael bristled and his halo of light became brighter. He responded, "The years in the dark have made you weak, brother." He raised his hand and shining light radiated from his palm. Samael felt a pain start in his head as he looked as the light. He folded his dark wings around himself to protect from the light, but the pain in his head only intensified. He fell to one knee as he attempted to combat it. He squinted up, using his hand to shield his face. He saw Michael standing right above him. The angel spoke, "You'll never learn, will you? Light always dispels darkness."

The albino attempted to respond, but his brother spoke before he could, "I can't help you, so I'll trap you. I'll give you a human soul if that's what you want. But, you will be like you tried to make this boy. You will watch the years go by as you are trapped beneath a human soul." He turned and looked at the woman huddled in the corner. He smiled and said, "There it is, brother. That woman is pregnant and her son will be your prison."

The boy on the bed stopped convulsing and blinked up at the ceiling, obviously confused. He coughed and looked at his parents with clear eyes. The priest joyously announced to the room at large, "The demon is gone!"  
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The woman took her newborn son in her arms and smiled. The baby was very pale, but beautiful all the same. He opened a pair of ruby red eyes and stared up at his mother. Her husband said softly, "What should we name him?" The tired woman smiled and said, "I've always liked Gilbert."


	14. Chapter 14

Ivan leaned close to the unconscious body and whispered in his ear, "I've released you from your mortal bonds, my love." The red eyes opened slowly and immediately found violet. The albino put his hands on the other's shoulders softly, almost sweetly. But he used them to push the other off of him with a sigh of what was almost disgust. He sat up and dusted himself off, still with the same look of distain on his face. The albino growled, "Don't look at me, Lucifer. I still taste mortal on my tongue." Ivan smiled sweetly and said, "I can help you with that problem."

Gilbert stood the rest of the way up, his back turned to the other. He spoke more to himself than to Ivan, "How dare Michael trap me like this? How dare he make me walk among those vermin?" He slowly stretched the black wings that had reappeared on his back. They made him feel like an immortal being again. Ivan slowly made his way back onto his feet, saying as he did so, "And how do you think it felt for me? You disappeared, Samael. It took me time to even find you. I haven't been so alone since before I fell."

The albino wasn't moved enough to turn around, instead he spoke still facing away, "You have a whole host of demons at your side. Don't tell me you were lonely." Ivan hissed and took a couple quick steps forward. He spoke right in Gilbert's ear, "I've said this before, but apparently you've forgotten. There is no one like you." He ran one of his hands over the albino's wing. He gently found the scar in the wing where the sword had pierced it. Ivan purred, "I could never forget what you did for me." Gilbert finally turned his head to the side to look at Ivan. He said softly, "I damned you."

The smirk that appeared on the other's face, "We both know that damnation is freedom." He leaned forward and connected their lips. Gilbert reacted immediately, grinding his body against the other's. Ivan's hand slipped to the albino's hip. He used the hold there to press the albino's butt against him. He broke the kiss to say, "I was never free to want you like this before." His hand dipped under the shirt and glided across the soft skin of Gilbert's midriff. The albino shivered against the touch. Ivan ran his tongue up the white skin of the other's neck. He spoke again, "But in Hell, lust is a virtue and you and I are royalty."

With that, the albino turned around and faced his lover. He put his hands on either side of Ivan's face and said softly, "My prince of darkness." Ivan moved both of his hands to the albino's hips. His hands slipped under the clothing like it was nothing. He responded with a soft smile, "My prince of demons. We had an eternity and it didn't mean anything until you were gone. I wandered the world looking for you, I may have left a little carnage in my wake." He leaned in and planted a set of frantic kisses on the other's neck. Gilbert responded, "Were you disappointed to find me so weak, unable to break through a simple mortal soul?"

His lover pulled away slightly and said, "Weak? It was amazing to see how thoroughly you corrupted the soul restraining you. The appearance was yours; the personality was yours. All the human did was convince you that you didn't believe in me." The words lessened the bitter distaste in Gilbert's throat. He leaned forward and grabbed the front of Ivan's shirt and pulled the other forward into a kiss. He felt one of Ivan's hands immediately go to the back of his head. They were entwined completely and Gilbert felt comfortable enough to melt. Everything about the other was warm. Ivan's hot velvety tongue was wrapped around his own. He tasted of the best kind of hellfire. The tips of Ivan's wings touched Gilbert's wings, making a complete circle of black feathers around them. The albino felt his chest pressed against the other's chest, feeling the pounding of the red-hot heart through the skin.

At Ivan's feet flames bloomed on the floor. They quickly spread over the floor and up the walls. Within minutes, the entire room was ablaze, save Lucifer's symbol, which remained unburnt on the wall. Gilbert finally noticed the fire and smirked. He said, releasing his lips from Ivan's, "It looks like I'm exciting you. It isn't quite time for hellfire yet though." He took a couple steps back and in one glance around the room, willed the fire to go out. The flames immediately disappeared, leaving the walls scorched but the floor unaffected. Ivan took a step out of the burned circle on the ground as the albino turned his attention to it. He smirked and "Time for the world to know I'm back." It took little effort for Gilbert to make fire draw a pentagram and a sword.

He smiled to himself and spoke; "Now I've made my mark." The other patiently waited, but said all the same, "Are you nearly done, you tease?" He sounded hurt and Gilbert heard it. He closed the distance between them again and put his hands on Ivan's face. He whispered, looking into the glowing violet eyes, "I didn't mean it that way. You know I love you, Lucifer." Ivan immediately put both of his hands on the albino's cheeks and pulled him into a deep kiss. His tongue plunged into Gilbert's mouth, so far that he could almost touch the back of the albino's throat. The kiss itself seemed to last an eternity before Ivan pulled away again and said, "Put your pride away for me. I want you now. No. I need you now, as my rightful consort."

Gilbert resumed the kiss, and as he did so, concentrated on changing the scenery. He wanted to be back in his own room. Something about making love to his lover in the room where a cross had once hung on the wall turned him on. When he opened his eyes for a moment, he saw the familiar red curtains. Ivan spoke, his lips still touching the albino's, "I don't care what room I take you in, as long as I have you." Gilbert responded, "Then shut up and do it."

That was more than enough prompting; Ivan grabbed the albino's white hips. He used his grip to slam the other against the door. Gilbert used the support against his back to pull both of his legs up around the other's waist. Ivan's lips against his were now blazing; the skin was hotter than Hell. The albino felt fiery fingertips move from his face, down his neck, and over his shirt. The fabric disintegrated to ashes beneath the touch. Gilbert smirked and leaned forward. He sweetly bit into the skin of Ivan's neck. The taste of hot blood filled the albino's mouth and he ran his tongue over the wound.

The other was completely caught off guard by the sudden rush of sensation. He put both of his hands against the door as a rumbling moan was pulled from his throat. His hands slipped down the wood of the door, leaving deep gouges in the wood. The groan turned slowly into words, "You devilish little minx." His hands grabbed Gilbert's newly exposed hips in a bruising grip.

Ivan turned them around and pressed Gilbert against the opposite wall, right next to the window. The force knocked some of the air out of the albino's lungs. His head jerked back as he gasped in air. The gasp quickly turned into a breathy moan as Ivan none-to-gently squeezed the bulge between his legs. He started grinding against the hand completely unconscious of his actions. His body was reacting to the pleasure with no thought on his part. He had forgotten how perfect this could feel. Ivan was also breathing heavily, almost panting, clearly affected by Gilbert grinding down on him. The albino reached to his side and grabbed the thick velvet next to him. The curtain popped off its hooks, one at a time in a strange staccato.

He closed his eyes for a second and suddenly felt the bed below his back. He knew that Ivan had moved them again. The taller man ran his hand smoothly down the inside of the albino's thighs. Gilbert responded with a groan, "Stop playing with me and get on with it!" Ivan responded by unbuttoning the albino's pants and quickly pulled them off. He did the same with his own before saying, "You are so impatient, but I will oblige." With that, he gently pushed himself into the albino.

Gilbert screamed and arched so that most of his back was off of the bed. He wasn't certain whether this was pain or pleasure, but it was all sensation. He released the curtain, which he had been holding onto and dug both hands into the flesh of the other's wings. He felt thick black feathers under his fingers, but he could also feel the warm flesh beneath. The first thrust was slow and deliberate; it dragged against all of Gilbert's nerves. Mercifully, it didn't hit his prostate yet. He felt himself trembling as Ivan thrust in again. Short moans echoed off the walls at each thrust.

Gilbert felt completely powerless, and his pride wouldn't allow it. It took all his willpower to use his legs to flip the pair of them over. The violet eyes that looked up at him were completely surprised. Gilbert smirked, "You may be the devil, but that doesn't mean you'll always get your way." He put both hands in the middle of the other's chest and used the placement to drive himself back down into another thrust. This one was on target and white sparks flashed in the albino's vision. He felt the pleasure go through his body, all the way to the tips of his wings. His black wings stretched out completely. Ivan took advantage of the moment of weakness to flip the pair of them back over.

Once he was back on top, Ivan intensified his pace, which caused all of Gilbert's thoughts about pride and dominance to disintegrate in a flood of pleasure. The other's aim was perfect and all control was gone, Gilbert could do little more than moan and hold onto Ivan's wings like they were the only things holding him onto this earth. The other's mouth moved to his neck and started to nibble on the skin. It didn't take much longer. He came with a scream, arching up against Ivan's chest. The other came shortly there after as the albino tightened around him. He attempted a couple more clumsy thrusts, but it was clear that it was over for now.

Ivan planted a few aggressive nibbles on the albino's neck. The skin was made more sensitive by the orgasm; so now each contact sent another wave of sensation coursing through him. He groaned, "Do it again, please, let's go another round." Ivan was about to respond when a sharp knock on the door interrupted them. Gilbert hurriedly pushed the other off of him so he could sit up and respond, "Whose there?" Feliciano's voice responded from the other side of the door, "It's me. Antonio wants to see you in his office right now; he said it was urgent."

The albino smirked and spoke softly to his lover, "So, the corrupted priest summons me. He doesn't know what he's asking for." Ivan laughed and responded, "Well it wouldn't do to keep him waiting." The albino took a couple steps forward, looking at himself in the mirror facing the bed. He was disheveled, as was to be expected, but he looked better than he had ever looked as a human. His red eyes were glowing with an unholy light. His skin was, if possible, even paler and was a marked contrast against the black of his wings. He would need to keep up the charade of being human for a little while longer, so that would entail toning down his appearance for now. He first folded down his wings so that disappeared. Next, he waved his hands over his body, making clothing appear on his body exactly as it had been before Ivan had burned or ripped it off.

He turned back around to see his lover sitting on the bed with the book of demons in his hand. He was turning the pages with a look of amusement on his face. He spoke, "Well, these certainly are elegant lies. It says nothing about me falling in love with another angel and being cast out by jealous wrath." Gilbert smirked and said, "Look at me, Lucifer. Tell me if I look the part. Do I look like a Nazi doctor to you?" The other didn't look up; instead he turned to another part of the book. He looked up with a sly smile, "But what I want to know is who this Lilith is and why you married her." The albino sighed, slightly frustrated, "We both know those are lies told to hide the real story. Now answer my question."

The other sighed and closed the book. He looked up and said, "You look completely and utterly human. It should fool the priest for now." Gilbert walked back over to the bed and leaned forward to kiss Ivan. The other leaned forward and accepted a soft kiss on the mouth. When Gilbert pulled away, Ivan said softly, "Give him Hell, Samael, my love." The albino smirked and responded, "I intend to."


	15. Chapter 15

Arthur stood up, shaking his head slightly. He said, looking at Alfred pityingly, "Al, I know you want this all to mean something. But look at yourself; you're sitting here looking for Nazi demons. But what you have to understand is that your brother was in an accident and nothing more than that." He turned to walk away, but Alfred spoke to stop him, "Where are you going?" Arthur glanced back over his shoulder and said, "I'm going to go visit your brother. You can come with me, or you can stay here with your paranoia." Alfred looked down at the papers and the book. It slowly dawned on him that all of this was slightly deranged to think that any of this was true. After Vatican II, very few Catholics even believed in all of this.

He pushed the big red book away and said, "Yeah, just a second, I'm coming." He left the sketches on the table as he walked away, deciding to leave the idea behind. When they returned to the room, the doctor appeared to be checking one of the monitors. He turned to face Alfred as the man entered the room. He glanced at Arthur, but his gaze returned to Alfred immediately. Arthur walked over to the other side of the bed and sat down in a chair next to Mathew's bed. The doctor walked over to Alfred and said, "Mr. Jones, can we talk privately?" The words immediately made Alfred worry about his brother's wellbeing. He responded, "Of course."

He followed the doctor out into the hall. The hallway was completely empty, save a few unoccupied beds that had been wheeled out of rooms. The doctor started by fixing his brown eyes on Alfred's blue ones. Then he spoke, "I heard that you were distressed about your brother. I know how you feel. I had a twin brother once and his death was very hard for me. But, I need to know what exactly happened to him." Alfred looked down sheepishly, but kept his eyes on the doctor's. There seemed to be no reason not to tell the doctor exactly what happened. The man also had a warm kind smile that encouraged him to tell everything. Somehow he thought this man would understand. However, his mind was telling him that certain parts of his story were unbelievable.

So, he said, "I didn't see exactly what happened. I found him like this. But there was something amiss in that asylum, I just can't put my finger on." The statement made the doctor go pale all the way up to the roots of his white hair. He spoke in a halting fashion, "You don't mean the old Autumn asylum? The one up the hill?" Alfred was puzzled by the response. A superstitious teenager was one thing, but an old doctor was quite another. He responded, "Yes, we were cleaning out the place. Things just got weird."

The doctor immediately looked worried. He reached around his neck and pulled a string of red beads out of his shirt. As it emerged, it because clear that the necklace was a rosary. The doctor took it off and handed it to Alfred. The blonde took it wordlessly. He turned it in his hand to look at the intricate cross. It had a medallion showing an angel holding a flaming sword in the back. The doctor spoke, "I have been wearing this for years to keep myself safe, but it sounds like you need it now. The devil is real and I've seen him." He looked away frantically and then turned to walk away. Alfred quickly said, "Thank you for this Doctor-" He stopped short because he realized he didn't actually know the doctor's name. The other completed the sentence with his last name, "Vargas."  
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Gilbert followed Feliciano to Antonio's office. When they were just outside the door when the brunette stopped. Gilbert smiled and spoke to the other, "Stick around, Feli. I have something I would like to talk to you about after this." It was only a ploy, Gilbert could see straight through the boy. He could see the sins behind the appearance of innocence. There was debauchery of a sexual nature that meant that his soul belonged to Hell. But, it wouldn't do to take the soul of the boy now when his real target was just the other side of the door. Antonio had sealed his fate by attempting to control Gilbert when the demon had been human. Being cowed into approving a lobotomy was still far too fresh in the memory. He could deal with the boy later, after he had dealt with Antonio. Now that he had all of his power back, he couldn't comprehend how Ivan had shown so much restraint.

The albino pushed open the door and walked into the office. Antonio had his back to the door, but it was clear that he was shaking from some emotion. As he touched the chair across the desk, Gilbert had a flash of clarity. He knew exactly who had been here only a few minutes before. He saw a man, not old in years but aged by hardship and cruelty. The man had pulled back his sleeve to show a series of numbers tattooed on his forearm to Antonio as proof of his time in a concentration camp. Then he had talked about how he had made it his life's mission to hunt down Nazis that had escaped justice. The whole thing was rather boring to Gilbert, but he knew that one important thing had come out of the conversation. When the Jewish man had explained that SS officers had a blood type tattoo, Antonio had pulled in a breath as he realized that he had seen one before.

Gilbert smiled to himself as he sat down. Only a couple hours ago, this turn of events would have been a problem, but now it didn't matter. Antonio finally spoke when he heard the albino sit, "You lied to me when we met. Where were you stationed during the war?" The albino decided that he could play with Antonio a little before striking. He replied in a mock-innocent tone, "A little town in Poland. You may have heard of it. Auschwitz?" The Spaniard turned around slowly with an understandable look of shock on his face. He said, his voice completely emotionless, "You have got to be kidding me."

Gilbert looked Antonio directly in the face and said, "Are you feeling like a fool now?" The Spaniard shook his head slightly and replied, sounding like he was trying to regain some sort of authority, "You lie well. I thought if I ever came face to face with a Nazi, let alone an SS doctor, I would recognize it immediately. Who would have guessed that pure evil would look so handsome?" He meant it to be a biting comment, but Gilbert wasn't fazed. He laughed slightly at the ignorance. It was amusing to hear Antonio talk to him like he was still human. He responded with a slight laugh, "I thank you for the compliment."

Antonio leaned forward and slammed his hands into the desk, "It wasn't meant as a compliment. I want you out of my asylum by dark or I will turn you over to the authorities. I do not tolerate evil in my midst." This sentence alone was enough to make Gilbert laugh again. He knew that the other had no real authority over him and the pitiful attempt was entertaining. He finally said, "You are a hypocrite, aren't you? You lied to me as well. You were ordained as a priest. Tell me, did you think of evil when you sat in the confession booth listening to Lovino's confessions about his mafia family, thinking about how you would like to sin with him? Did you think of it when he offered himself and his brother to you in exchange for absolution?"

All the blood drained from Antonio's face. He stuttered and attempted to get words between his pale lips. His hands curled into fists on the table, one moved back to open a drawer of the desk. He finally regained his ability to speak, "The sins of my past are between Lovino, myself, and Heaven." Gilbert was quick to correct him, "You mean Hell."

Antonio suddenly pulled a wooden cross from the desk and held it in front of himself like a shield. He hissed, "I command you to leave, demon, in the name of God." At this point, Gilbert leaned back in the chair and let out a full-throated laugh. He leaned forward and waved his hand. The wooden cross immediately burst into flames. Antonio released it in his shock and the flaming cross fell on the desk, which started burning too.

The Spaniard looked up wide-eyed at Gilbert. The albino smirked as he said, "I'm a fallen angel, your little symbols don't work against me. Don't reach for the book either, it won't help you." Antonio recoiled, looking around for a weapon. Gilbert stood up and slowly spread his wings. They filled up the limited space in the room. Antonio again went pale as he looked at the wings. The realization that he was actually facing a fallen angel dawned across his face. He spoke again, "God will protect me."

Gilbert laughed again at the hilarity of it. The man was truly grasping at straws at this point. He took a step forward, closer to the desk separating them. He fixed his piercing red eyes on Antonio as he said; "You mocked your Lord when you lost your virtue to Lovino in the church during the dead of night, right in front of the altar. You severed your connection with Heaven when you took both twins in the back of the cloakroom right after mass. No one will save you from me." Again, Antonio's green eyes went wide again. He looked like a trapped animal.

He suddenly ran around the desk. Gilbert rolled his eyes at the futile attempt to get away. He made a single gesture and used his power to throw the mortal against the door without a single touch. Antonio slammed face first against the wood like a rag doll. He attempted in vain to push himself off of the door, but it was easy for Gilbert to keep him there. The albino leisurely walked over to the Spaniard. He leaned forward and said in the other's ear, "Don't fight it. I promise I'll make it painless if you go easily." Being able to exert this kind of control over a mortal again was intoxicating to Gilbert. This was the power he had always loved, the power he craved.

Antonio struggled to say, "I will never submit myself to Hell." With a seemingly superhuman effort, the Spaniard extended his hand and grabbed the door handle. The door swung open and Antonio stumbled forward onto the landing. He turned, his green eyes full of fear and immediately started running towards the stairs. It seemed that he still thought there was a chance of escape. Gilbert stepped out onto the landing and looked at the Spaniard's back. He was waiting for the perfect moment, and it soon presented itself.

When Antonio reached the top of the stairs, Gilbert used his power to pull his feet out from under him. The Spaniard toppled forward, hitting his face on the steps. His nose broke and started gushing bright red blood. As he rolled down the stairs, blood stained the steps. Gilbert took a couple steps forward so that he was at the top of the stairs looking down at the man currently being thrashed against the wooden stairs. Antonio came to rest with a hard hit on the last stair that broke his neck with a loud crack.

The albino walked down to where the Spaniard lay and kneeled down when he got there. He put his hand under the man's chin and forced their eyes to meet. Antonio's face was caked in his own blood. He was breathing shallowly through his mouth. His green eyes flicked back and forth, desperately searching for some sort of mercy in Gilbert's face. The albino presented none. He spoke in a soft voice, running his hand over the cheek of the other, "You should have taken my offer. I can make it end now."

He pulled a knife from his belt. It was a smaller version of a sword, which was far too cumbersome for this particular use. Dark viscous yellow venom coated the knife. A small drop formed at the end of it, the perfect amount to kill a mortal man. A look of recognition flashed across the back of the green eyes. His mouth moved to form a single word, "Samael." The albino nodded shortly to confirm the identification. The mortal drew in a difficult breath and said, "Send me to see Lovi, please." Again, Gilbert nodded. He tightened his grip on Antonio's chin, forcing the man's mouth open. He raised the knife and tipped it so that the droplet detached itself from the end of the knife and landed on the tongue of the Spaniard. As it rolled down the back of his throat, the light in the green eyes went out for good. Gilbert could see the blackened soul vanish to Hell.

Gilbert stood up, turning his head to face his next target. Feliciano had come back to see if the conversation was over and his eyes had found the battered body of his employer and lover. His gasped loudly and Gilbert turned to him. The albino reached out with his power and wrapped an invisible hand around the boy's throat. Feliciano choked and attempted to pull in a breath. Gilbert spoke, "Now, sweet little Feli, should I reveal your sins?" He pulled the boy up in the air. Feliciano kicked out, denting and bending the bars outwards. In a single motion, Gilbert pulled him forward over the bars so that he was floating above the ground with a massive fall beneath him. The albino lowered his hand, allowing the boy to drop through the air. The fall would do enough damage for Gilbert to have no trouble finishing him off. Feliciano's body plummeted towards the floor.

Then, a flash of blinding light filled the room. Gilbert had to shield his eyes from the brightness. When he opened them again, he saw a familiar blonde angel kneeling in the middle of the floor. He had Feliciano in his arms, completely safe. The boy was looking at the angel with huge eyes, his mouth hanging slightly open. Michael stroked the brunette's hair and said, "You're safe now, Feli. I'm your guardian angel and I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

Gilbert smiled widely. He had thought he would have to wait much longer to take his revenge on his brother. Now his brother was close enough for him to do exactly what he wanted to. He spoke, "It's been a while, brother." Michael turned his icy blue eyes to the albino and slowly stood up. He responded, "Not nearly as long as I had hoped. How did you escape your prison?"

A voice spoke from the other side of the room, "I released him." Ivan strolled across the room, his aura slowly encroaching on Michael's light. The blonde angel took a step back, conceding a very important sign of surrender. It was clear that he feared the devil. He hissed, "Lucifer." Ivan walked over to Gilbert and put his arm possessively around the albino's shoulders. He spoke directly at Michael, "You should have known that I would rescue my prince." The darkness spread more aggressively over the floor; the light of Michael was losing ground. Gilbert felt rage rise in his chest when he thought about the years he had been locked beneath a human soul. He spoke with venom in his voice, "I will not forgive you for trapping me. I should take your little pet just for that."

Feliciano whimpered and put both of his arms around Michael's neck. The angel's white wings folded in slightly. He would have reached for his sword, but both hands were occupied with Feliciano. Ivan and Gilbert traded a knowing look and the taller angel spoke, "That seems a fair price for now." He raised his hand and darkness flew at Michael, who immediately tried to expand his halo of light. The darkness battered against the light. Ivan spoke, his voice ringing off the walls, "Even the brightest candle can be snuffed out by the overwhelming dark."

He leaned close to Gilbert and whispered, "Give me your power, my love. I can bind him in darkness with our power together." The albino smirked and put both of his hands against his lover's chest. He then leaned in and joined their lips. He poured himself into Ivan through the kiss. The darkness began to overwhelm Michael, who took another unsteady step backwards. Even so, it was clear that his power was failing. When his light finally faltered, he pulled his white wings up to protect himself and Feliciano. The wings would not serve as enough protection and he knew it. Michael took one more look up and fixed his eyes on Gilbert. He grimaced, which only showed his struggle. Finally, the angel vanished in a small implosion of light, taking Feliciano with him.

Gilbert broke away from Ivan and said, "Coward, he should have stayed to fight." Ivan smiled and said, "Look at the positive, my love. We just proved that together we are able to challenge the power of heaven." The albino leaned forward and kissed the other, his tongue entwining in the other's soft velvety tongue. He pulled away only long enough to say, "Our work here is done." Ivan smiled softly and said, "For now, I think this place may be of use to us again."


	16. Chapter 16

Alfred tucked the rosary into his pocket, wondering if he should be taking any of this seriously. It could just be old superstition about an old asylum, or it could be something more. He walked back into the room and took a look at his brother. Mathew was paler than ever, his skin was almost white. His lips were pale and barely moved as he breathed.

Alfred walked over to Arthur and said, "How is he doing?" The older man ran his hand over his hair slowly. He responded, "He's getting weaker. There is nothing wrong with him, but he's still fading." Alfred sat down in the open chair next to the other blonde. The feeling of being completely helpless started to overwhelm him. His twin brother was dying and there was nothing he could do about it. He turned to Arthur and said, "This may be the wrong time to ask this, but I want to know who hired us. He should be paying for Matthew's treatment, however long it lasts."

Arthur sighed and said, "He's a Russian oligarch who wanted to move here to get away from everything." Alfred was struck by something strange in this explanation. He pointed it out, "Why would an important person like that hire a small firm like ours?"

The other shrugged, "When there is a chance for such a big payoff, I don't ask too many questions. The money would have done us a lot of good." Alfred clenched his jaw and said, "So, we were too desperate to say no?" The other nodded sadly. The younger shook his head as he realized that his brother had paid the price for their dire straights. He said, "So, what's the name of our employer?" Arthur looked hesitant, but he said, "Ivan Braginski."  
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The mansion lay on the very edge of the mortal realm with one foot in Hell. The gates were made of black iron; they formed the twisted shapes of stylized flames. Dark hedges lined the path up to the mansion. A pair of lesser demons, who were looking straight ahead, flanked the gates. Both turned to look as Gilbert approached the gate. Both bowed deeply to their commander.

The gates swung open with a massive groaning of hinges. The albino walked straight through the gates and down the path to the front gates. When he reached the front door, it immediately swung open. The front entry way was tiled in black marble. Massive columns flanked the door, and reached up several stories to the high ceiling. The ceiling was painted in the same Renaissance style as the Sistine chapel, but the difference was that these paintings celebrated the sins. They showed lust, gluttony, pride, envy and wrath in the same beauty that Heaven glorified virtue. Gilbert knew that his own fall from grace was depicted on more than one wall. The bedroom that he shared with Ivan was the only one with the painting of the first consummation in the Garden of Eden on the wall. A large chandelier made of red crystals hung from the middle of the ceiling, casting the red light of thousands of burning candles.

The albino walked confidently through the halls following the sound of distant hysterical screaming. It sounded like some sinner was being punished. Gilbert soon reached the back of the house, where the audience chambers were. Ivan was sitting on a red velvet couch on a raised platform, lazily gesturing at the man who was writhing on the floor in front of him. This particular patch of floor was painted with a giant inverted pentagram. The mortal was a lanky man with a series of scars crisscrossing his face. Gilbert instantly knew that the man was a solider who had chosen to betray his companions and became a mercenary. He seemed to be in unbearable agony, which was only to be expected if Ivan was truly punishing him.

The devil looked up as he heard his lover's footsteps. He smiled as he fixed his gaze on the albino, "Ah, I was wondering where you were." Gilbert smiled and said, "I was having a little fun watching your manipulation come to fruition." Ivan sat up slightly, his attention piqued. He smiled as he said, "Did you enjoy returning to your old haunt?" Gilbert took a few more steps towards his lover, stepping over the writhing mortal as he did so. He spoke, "I wasn't there to enjoy it. I was very successful though."

There was a black hellhound lying on the ground right in front of the couch. The dog looked like a German shepherd, but it was much larger and completely black. As he walked closer, Gilbert reached out and scratched the dog behind the ears. The long black tail started wagging back and forth rapidly, thumping against the floor. Ivan's blonde eyebrows went up, "Oh, and how successful was that?"

The screams of the mortal were becoming an annoyance. Gilbert pulled a knife from his belt and with a single flick of his wrist threw it at the man. It lodged itself firmly in the mortal's jugular permanently silencing him. The bright red blood poured out, pooling over the floor. The albino then turned back to his lover and pulled a thin chain up from around his throat. On it was hanging a vial filled with glowing light.

Ivan's violet eyes went wide, "Is that what I think it is?" Gilbert pulled the necklace off and handed extended it to the other. He spoke with triumph in his voice, "It's a perfectly pure soul. I stole it from one of those contractors." As Ivan held the vile up to look straight through it, Gilbert sat down on the couch next to his lover and put his hand on Ivan's thigh.

Ivan spoke again, "It is perfect, I see no marks of sin." The albino leaned closer and spoke in the other's ear, "A perfect soul to be perfectly corrupted." The devil took the vile of soul in his hand and said, turning with a smile to his lover, "As it is written. Only a pure soul and the total corruption of Hell can create the antichrist." The other nodded and finished the statement, "The mortal man who will bring about our reign on Earth." Ivan ran one hand up Gilbert's leg and put the other hand on the albino's cheek. Their foreheads touched. He smiled softly and said, "And now we have the soul to do it."

Gilbert put his hand on the other cheek and said with a smirk, "So what do you say, Lucifer, shall we make a baby?" Ivan laughed and pulled his lover into a kiss. When he pulled away, he said, "I would love nothing more, Samael." The albino smirked and pulled himself into the other's lap. He reached over and freed the vile from Ivan's grip. He pulled the stopper out of the vile and put the glass to his lips. The soft sweet soul flowed freely from the confining bottle onto Gilbert's tongue. Once it was completely out of the vile, the albino dropped the piece of glassware, which smashed on the floor.

Ivan grabbed the albino's chin and forced their lips together. Gilbert opened his mouth and let the other's tongue into his mouth. He tasted the tongue, but he could also taste the savory bitterness of darkness flowing into his mouth. He concentrated his own power on the soul, which was currently struggling between their two tongues. Ivan's hands both went to Gilbert's butt, which he grabbed aggressively. The albino gasped, which allowed Ivan's tongue to plunge deeper into his mouth. The power between them was now intoxicatingly thick. Slowly, the soul stopped struggling as it was inundated with the strength of Hell. Once it stopped moving altogether, they disengaged their lips. The soul remained floating in the air between them, no longer trying to flee the presence of evil. It had gone from pure shining light to completely black.

Ivan smiled and admired the newly corrupted soul, "Now, my love, finish the process." The albino reached up and took the soul in his hand. He responded, "I will send this back to its original owner." He opened his hand and gently blew on the soul like he was blowing a kiss. The black soul flew off in the direction of the hospital. The albino giggled slightly, "I hope his brother appreciates the change."  
_________________________________________________________________________________________________

Alfred took a hold of his brother's hand. He said, "Please wake up, Matty. Please, for me." He closed his eyes and bowed his head, starting to pray for the first time since he was a child. He didn't actually believe in any of this, but if it was able to bring his brother back, he was willing to try anything.

Suddenly, Matthew's hand tightened on his own. His head jerked up and his eyes met a pair of violet ones framed in blonde hair. His brother was looking at him with a faint smile. Matthew breathed shakily, "Were you just worrying about me, Al? I never thought you would do that. How long have I been in a coma?" Alfred lunged forward and hugged his brother, saying as he did so, "I'm sorry I slapped you. I'm sorry I mocked you. Just don't ever do that again. Don't you ever try and die on me."

Mathew pulled off his respirator so it was easier to talk. Arthur put his hand on Alfred's shoulder and said, "Bloody Hell, Alfred, he just woke up, you shouldn't be so physical with him." Alfred was far too excited to do anything else. He felt Matthew's arms shaking slightly as they wrapped around him. As Alfred leaned even farther forward, the rosary the doctor had given him fell out of his pocket onto the bed. Matthew only glanced at it for a moment. He said weakly, "What happened to me?" He looked from his brother to Arthur as though he was searching for an answer.

Alfred finally released his brother, but kept his hands on the other's shoulders. He said, looking directly into his twin's eyes, "Don't you remember anything?" Alfred wondered if he actually wanted to hear the answer. He had suspected all manor of things, but Matthew could tell him what actually happened. The other twin shook his head, "I remember getting to the asylum, you telling me to not be afraid, and then walking into a big room and having everything go black." Alfred let out a disappointed breath. He had wanted a certain answer.

Arthur pulled a little more forcefully on Alfred's shoulder, "Give him some space to breath." Alfred finally nodded and let go of his brother's shoulders. He said, "I'll be right back, Matty. I'm going to go find your doctor." Arthur nodded and said, "I'm also going to leave. I have to call our employer and tell him that we will by no means continue with this job." Matthew nodded faintly, "I'll be fine by myself, you two can go."

Alfred suddenly leaned forward and kissed his brother on the forehead, "I swear I will be right back." Again, the younger twin nodded. Alfred smiled one more time and then turned and walked out of the room. Arthur waited for a moment and said, "I'm so glad that you're awake again." After that, he also turned and left, taking his cellphone out of his pocket as he did so.

Once they were both gone, Matthew easily sat all the way up in bed. He started by pulling the IVs out of his arms. He then picked up the rosary from the bed in front of him and looked at it. He smiled and in a single motion, threw the rosary against the wall. The cross broke into several pieces. The red beads shattered into millions of sharp pieces. A smirk slowly curled across Matthew's face.


End file.
